Let's do the time warp again
by Eutychia69
Summary: Year 2021. Kurt needs to know why Blaine had upped and left without a word three years ago. With the help of a scientist friend, he time-travels back to Blaine's past and stumbles upon things from the past.. and future.
1. Chapter 1: The Machine

**Let's Do the Time Warp Again**

**Year 2021. Kurt needed to know why Blaine had upped and left without a word three years ago. With the help of a scientist friend, he travels back to Blaine's past and stumbles upon things from the past.. and future. **

**I do not own Glee. **

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><p>A man in an oversized lab coat stood in front of a magnificent machine, his thick black-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose bridge as he furrowed his brows in deep concentration. His fingers swept swiftly and gracefully over keys on the LCD screen, creating a discordant mixture of beeps and buzzes.<p>

"Dude, are you sure you wanna go ahead with this? I mean, I have absolutely no doubt in my capabilities as a scientist – just look at my legs; they're the perfect indication of my professional expertise – but you do realize that there are significant risks involved in time-travelling, don't you?" The bespectacled scientist asked solemnly as he looked at Kurt directly in the eye, his voice almost inaudible over the cacophony of noises.

"For the hundredth time, yes, Artie, I'm sure." Kurt replied pointedly from where he was seated in the tiny glass compartment – 'The Box', as Artie called it. "Hundred percent sure," he added, with far more conviction than what he was feeling at the moment.

"Okie-dokie. Now try to relax a bit and take long deep breaths while I complete these final checks. Everything okay in there?"

Kurt nodded shakily. The prospect of travelling to the past was exciting yet frightening at the same time. He would be crossing boundaries, treading into unknown territories and entering realms new and unfamiliar to mankind.

"_Are you serious about this? Time-travel is a tricky thing, Kurt. There have been cases – numerous cases in fact – of people who have delved too far and deep into the past. Many returned to the present either scarred by or overly-attached to events of the past. Some became emotionally-wrecked, some turned delusional; the more unlucky ones lost their sanity altogether ..."_

Artie had warned him of the dangers when he had first approached him for assistance, and Kurt had contemplated the possible consequences of this decision before eventually deciding that this was a risk he was willing to take. He needed to seek answers to the questions that have been plaguing him everyday since that fateful night. He needed to know the truth. These three years have been far too long, far too wasted. Three years – three drawn-out, painful years marked by days spent in blind, zombified living and lonely sleepless nights drowned in whisky and tears.

On the night Blaine left without a word, he seemed to have taken all of Kurt's hopes and dreams along with him. Kurt knew he could no longer seek solace in the future, nor could he see any meaning in the present. The past, it seemed, was the only place he could turn to. Perhaps it would only be then that he could find some closure and finally put an end to this hellish torture.

He had to do this. There was simply no other option.

A sharp shrill beep from the machine jolted him back from his thoughts and back to the present situation.

"Okie-dokie, I think we are ready to go, my friend. Remember, wherever you end up in, there will be a red door in your vicinity. Make sure you keep track of where it is at all times. You may walk through it anytime, should you want to, or _need_ to return to the present. Anyway I'll set this machine to bring you back in 3 hours' time, which would be equivalent to … let me see ... approximately 3 months in the past..." said Artie as he fiddled nervously with the buttons on the machine for one last time.

"Oh yes and before I let you go, I have to once again remind you _not _to attempt, in any way possible, to alter the events of the past. Any intervention on your part may have disastrous repercussions on your present and future," he added gravely.

"Alright, I'll try – "

"Try? No, not _try_, you _MUST_. Promise me, Kurt, it's for your own good I swear. Else I'm not sending you anywhere." Artie huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the man who was fidgeting restlessly in his seat.

"Okay. Promise." Kurt nodded meekly, trying hard to ignore the rapid pounding of his heart against his chest.

"Great. Now sit still, Kurt ... and get ready to return to the summer of 2018!"

The buzzes and beeps of the machine escalated suddenly into a deafening swirl of noises. Kurt shut his eyes tightly as a wave of electricity course through the arc of his body, tingling all the way from his neck and down to his toes. His head was spinning and his chest felt painfully constricted. He wondered if this was how it felt to be dying.

Then, abruptly, his surroundings fell into a thick silence.

Kurt opened his eyes slowly and found himself on his knees in the middle of an empty pavement. His body felt strangely numb and heavy. He stood up shakily and took an unsteady step forward.

A newspaper lay less than a feet away from where he was standing. He glanced down at the cover page and gasped.

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><p><strong>Hope you like this chapter. Reviewscomments/suggestions would be greatly appreciated!:)**


	2. Chapter 2: I'm not a Stranger

**Chapter 2: I'm not a Stranger**

**_Hi, to all those who liked my first chapter, thank you very much:) Hope u find this chapter enjoyable too._**

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><p>Kurt gripped the paper tightly in his hands, unable to tear his eyes away from the tiny line of letters at the top of the page. He willed himself to breathe.<p>

_Thursday, 12th July, 1999._

He did a quick mental calculation and groaned in disbelief. He had gone too far back into the past, way further than he had intended. Still clutching the newspaper, he sighed and took in his surroundings. He doubted that he had ever been here, since he had not an inkling of where he was, although he did feel a slightest, vaguest sense of familiarity with the place. It certainly looked like a prestigious suburban neighborhood, with its elaborate Georgian Colonial-style mansions, sprawling front lawns, unbelievably long driveways and –

Kurt spluttered in surprise and stared in utter bewilderment; his mouth agape as he tried to make sense of the peculiar sight. An ornately-carved mahogany door hung in mid-air, half-hidden behind a shrub barely two metres away from him. _The door to the present_, he realized as he inched his way towards it, contemplating if he should step through it to give Artie a good piece of his mind.

"Darling, please! Come back here into the house right now!"

Kurt spun around so abruptly that it surprised him that his neck was still intact. A petite, wavy-haired woman in her late-twenties stood on the doorstep of a majestic blue-and-white mansion, her perfectly manicured fingers resting on her hips and a frown tainting her impeccably powdered face. A little boy with dark bouncy curls was sitting on the lawn, deeply engrossed in his play.

"Shhh, Mummy, not so loud. It's Dollie's nap-time. Let me sing her a lullaby first. " The little boy replied absently.

The woman sighed in resignation. "Ten more minutes, baby. Daddy will be home soon and if he sees you with Dollie he'd take her away," she warned, muttering something about soccer and Lego under her breath as she went back into the house.

Kurt chuckled as he watched the lovely five-year-old scowl and stick out his tongue as soon as his mother turned her back. "Don't worry, Dollie, no one's gonna take you away from Blaine, not even Daddy," he whispered as he cradled the doll protectively in his arms. Stroking the doll's hair gently, he began to sing in a voice soft and tender.

_I can show you the world_

_Shining, shimmering, splendid_

_Tell me princess, now when did_

_You last let your heart decide?_

_I can open your eyes_

_Take you wonder by wonder_

_Over, sideways and under_

_On a magic carpet ride..._

The voice rose and fell like the gentle flutter of a feather. Kurt stood transfixed on the sidewalk as he let himself be swept away by it. It was a voice rich with the purity of a child's innocence, and in a pitch so crystal-clear that he could almost picture it sparkling in the sunlight.

_A whole new world, a new fantastic point of view_

_No one to tell us no_

_Or where to go_

_Or say we're only dreaming.._

Kurt found himself unconsciously singing along. When the chorus ended, the little boy looked up from his doll. His eyes widened in curiosity and interest as he stared in Kurt's direction. It was only then that Kurt realized that the little boy was well-aware of his presence; he had assumed that he would be unseen by the people of the past. He wasn't even sure if he should be talking to him, though. He had remembered Artie's repeated warnings of the unthinkable consequences of interfering with the past.

Kurt walked towards the front gate and lowered himself to his knees to meet those beautiful eyes. Once again, he found himself lost in those familiar pools of hazel.

"Umm. Hi.., " he said hesitantly. He was suddenly at loss for words. What was he supposed to say, anyway – _Hi I'm from your future and nice to meet you?_ After all, he had never spoken to anyone from another time dimension and this felt all too surreal and bizarre to him.

"Mummy and Daddy say I shouldn't talk to Strangers. I have never seen you before, so you are a Stranger. So I can't talk to you, sorry." The little boy bit his lower lip nervously and kept his eyes averted.

"Oh. Umm alright then. " Kurt replied with an amused smile. "I just wanna tell you that you've got an amazing voice, kid. The song you sang – it's one of the most beautiful things I've heard."

"Thank you." The little boy broke into a wide grin. " You sing prettily too," he added shyly.

Kurt chuckled and ruffled the boy's unruly curls.

"But you're confusing." The little boy stated simply. He pondered over something for a moment, a slight pout forming on his face. "Mummy says Strangers are all big and scary, like the monsters in my nightmares. But you are a Stranger. And I think you are nice."

"I think you are nice too, and I'm really happy to meet you. And, we've met, so technically, I'm not a stranger."

"Oh... Okie. So now that you are no longer a Stranger, what's your name then? " he asked inncoently as he leaned closer towards Kurt. He was starting to like this man. He was old like Mummy and Daddy but he seemed different. Not like the other grown-ups, anyway. He wouldn't mind being his friend.

"I'm Ku – Oh never mind, you can call me.. Mr Hum." _Better to be safe than sorry. Making an effort to not impact any bit of the past; Artie ought to be proud. _

"That's a funny name. But I like it," the little boy giggled. "Hi Mr Hum, I'm Blaine Anderson." He stuck out his tiny hand for a handshake.

"That's a beautiful name. I love it."

"Thank you. And this is Dollie. She's going to grow up to be a Disney princess" Little Blaine beamed proudly as he showed Kurt the doll he was holding in his left arm."Would you like to carry her, she's really -''

His words were interrupted by the roaring of a car engine.

"Oh no! Daddy's back! He'll be mad if he sees me here.. I got to go, bye-bye!" Little Blaine released his hold on Kurt's fingers and sprinted towards the house. Then, in the middle of his lawn, he paused and turned around.

"Hope to see you again, Mr Hum! I'll let you carry Dollie next time!"

With a wave of the hand, he disappeared into the mansion.

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><p><em>I'll definitely see you again, Blaine. Soon. <em>

Kurt strode towards the mahogany door. He pulled it downwards and took a step in.


	3. Chapter 3: We meet again

_A big thank you to each and every one of you for liking this little fic of mine:)_

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 3: We meet again<span>**

"Wait..wait. Let me get this straight, so now you're telling me you don't intend to return directly to year 2018 now? You're confusing me, dude. I thought that's our original plan?" Artie looked questioningly at the man who had returned to The Box in less than a minute.

"That _was_. But not anymore after you misdirected me to 1999 instead. Oh you should have seen Blaine when he was five – with those enormous eyes and that angelic voice and innocent heart-melting smile, he was completely sweet and adorable – "

Artie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, when was he ever not, to you at least."

"Well anyway..." Kurt continued, ignoring his friend's comment. "My point is that I have now decided that I'd like to visit different episodes of his past, well maybe like at different stages of his life right up to 2018. That's possible, isn't it?"

"Technically, yes. But it's not advisable, Hummel. Remember what I've said – the more you dabble with the past, the more difficult it is for you to return unaffected and sane to the present. His voice dropped to a worried whisper. "Plus, knowing you, you'd probably do all you can do to change the course of certain events."

"I promise I won't. I'll be a nice good observer. Maybe just talk to him a little but I swear I won't try anything drastic. Pleeease Artie, you're an awesome buddy and I know you won't bear to crush the hopes of friend who has spent three long years of his life in emotional torment and who has now finally decided to take a courageous step forward to embark on a journey towards self-recovery..." Kurt pleaded, looking at Artie with wide puppy-dog eyes.

Artie let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, fine, you win. I hope you do realize that what you plan on doing borders on voyeurism" he grumbled under his breath. "I'll be watching you from here though, so don't you dare try anything funny else I'll bring you back here in an instant." he added warningly as he tapped a series of keys on the LCD screen.

Kurt grinned and sat down in The Box, tucking his feet under his thighs.

"Don't forget, red door leads back to the present, blue door to another time dimension."

Those were the last words that registered in Kurt's mind before he felt the world around him spin again.

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><p>"He wouldn't want to play football. He hates it."<p>

"He does not. He's a _boy, _Kevin_._ All boys like football."

"Oh yeah? Go ahead and ask him, if you don't believe me. I bet you five bucks that he would say no."

A boy with wispy blonde hair and reefwater blue eyes scooted over to his scrawny, curly-haired classmate who was sitting in the middle of the sandpit with a group of giggling girls.

"Hey Blaine, we're gonna play ball, and we're short of one player. Wanna join us?"

"Umm. Thanks for asking, Joe, but I guess..not. I'm really horrible at it, and I'll probably make your team lose. Sorry." Blaine looked up at Joe and replied apologetically. Joe shrugged his shoulders and mumbled a disappointed "okay" as he walked back to his friend and grudgingly handed over his money.

"See, I was right, wasn't I? Blaine doesn't like boy stuff, he'd rather hang out with the _girls_. My older brother says he's _queer,_" said Kevin with a "told-you-so" smirk on his face as he happily accepted the note. "Can you believe it? Look at him braiding Adele's hair! Which boy in the right mind does that?" he added in a voice that was loud enough to draw the attention of the other boys around them.

"My dad says I should stay away from him. He's afraid I'll become like him or something." A pudgy boy chimed in.

"Yeah, I know right. My mom says she heard that his parents had him visit a _shrink _to figure out what's wrong with him_"_ Kevin announced, eliciting a couple of snickers from the group.

Blaine felt his ears burning as kept his head low, averting the looks of disgust and pity that were cast towards him. He mumbled a quick apology to the girls and walked away from the playground, fighting the tears that were stinging his eyes. _Real boys don't cy_, his dad had berated him every time he caught a tear rolling down his cheek. _But maybe I'm not a real boy, not normal like the rest of them anyway_, he had pondered over this every night under his covers. He knew he was different from the other boys, and he loathed himself for that. He made his way towards the classroom and unlocked the door.

Blaine did a double-take when he saw a man sitting on the teacher's desk, with his back facing him.

He was the class monitor, and he knew no one else had the class key except him, Mrs Carley and the school janitor. The man, dressed in a maroon dress shirt, pleated gray slacks and designer leather shoes, certainly looked nothing like a janitor.

"Hey," The man turned around and gave him a warm smile. Blaine was sure he hadn't seen him around school.

"Hi." Blaine was still in surprise, but he felt strangely at ease as he looked into his greenish-blue eyes. "May I ask, sir, who _are_ you? And how did you get in?"

"Oh, you can call me Mr H. New admin staff working in the school office. Well you know, they keep a spare set of keys there." The man explained with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Anyway, I was looking for something I'd left here this morning when I saw what happened outside. At the playground." he continued in a soft, kindly voice, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Blaine.

"Okaaay. Please tell me you are not another one of those school counselors.." Blaine regarded the man with suspicion as he subconsciously took a retreating step.

"Counselor? No no I'm not, not to worry. It's just that.. I could vaguely hear what they were saying..about you. And I was just a little concerned. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Blaine mumbled, bending down to retrieve a pen that had rolled off the desk. "I'm okay. Really." He added, more audibly this time.

"I know it's not easy, kiddo. I've been through it before, trust me, I understand how it feels to –"

"You don't understand. It's horrible, Mr H, and I'm starting to feel really afraid. The boys at school are beginning to act really nasty towards me. And my dad – he insists that I see a counselor every other day because he thinks that i'm … freaky. Because I don't like doing any of the things that other boys do.." He muttered, staring down at the ground and wringing his hands nervously. "Do you think... there's something wrong with me too?" he asked in a voice so small and terrified that it broke Kurt's heart.

"No." Kurt stated assertively as he clasped the boy's hands in his. "No. Being different doesn't make you any bit more abnormal than anyone else. There' re many unkind people in this world who say and do horrible things to others who are different from them. You can't make them stop, so all you can do is to protect yourself by staying away from these people; ignore them and let them call you whatever names they want. Know that they're doing so simply because they are ignorant fools. Don't _ever_ let them convince you that you are a freak, you understand? Because no one, no one at all, no matter how different you are– deserves to be made to feel like this."

Kurt brushed a tear off the boy's cheek and gently tilted his chin with a finger so that he could meet his eyes. "You are a sweet, talented boy with a glorious future ahead of you. So remember my words, be strong, and keep that lovely smile on. Don't ever let anyone get you down, Blaine."

The school bell rang, signaling the end of recess. With an encouraging smile and a light squeeze of the boy's hand, the man walked out of the door.

The classroom began to be filled with the shuffling of footsteps and loud chatter as the fourth-graders returned to their seats. But Blaine remained standing in a daze before the teacher's desk, wondering how the mysterious man had known his name.


	4. Chapter 4: Behind the mask

_I'm happily flattered that you guys enjoy reading this fic, since I write mainly boring academic pieces and this is one of my first amateurish attempts at writing a story in many many years (I know right, the irresistable charm of Klaine:)) Thank you once again for your support!_

_Anyway, here's the next chapter and hope it won't disappoint._

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><p>Kurt emerged from the cerulean-blue door, nearly losing his balance as he clumsily took a step backwards to dodge an oncoming food van. The rich aroma of cotton candy, hot dogs, and popcorn permeated the air and bright neon lights flashed in synchrony with the loud chirpy music that was blasting from the speakers. The place was packed with mainly families; children clutching large colorful balloons squealed in delight as they bounded excitedly from one ride to another while the parents, fumbling with cameras, water bottles and half-eaten cotton candy, struggled to keep an eye on their over-excited kids. <em>How the hell am I supposed to find him<em>, Kurt thought helplessly as he stood on tiptoes, craning his neck in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of dark, curly hair.

He sighed in frustration. Searching for someone in a sea of people at a fun-fair on a Saturday night was certainly no simple feat . After fifteen minutes, his target was still nowhere in sight. Kurt glanced at the mahogany door hanging behind a red-and-white striped tent and considered if it would be a better idea to return to the present to seek some assistance from Artie. He jostled through the crowd, making his way in the direction of the tent. He was less than three feet away from it when he felt himself stumble over something in the way.

"What the –'' He cursed in annoyance but the words immediately evaporated on his lips as a pair of strong sturdy arms caught him just in time, sparing him the utter humiliation of toppling face-down onto the ground.

"Woah.. I'm so sorry, man. Didn't mean to trip you. Are you alright?"

Still reeling from surprise and embarrassment, Kurt looked up and met the gaze of a tall, older man. He felt an involuntary hitch in his breath as he looked into those eyes. They were inexplicably...interesting – a most peculiar shade of blue; a most startling richness of emotions swirling in its depths. A stray strand of ash-brown forelock had fallen loose from his immaculately backcombed hair, and Kurt couldn't help but notice that it was now gently caught between those long, thick lashes that seemed almost strained behind his rimless glasses.

Realizing that he had been creepily staring for far too long than what was deemed appropriate, Kurt averted his gaze and hastily steadied himself. The hands that had been gripping him tightly around the waist were released so suddenly that he felt his body sway slightly forward.

"I'm.. I'm fine. See I'm standing perfectly rooted on the ground, I'm good. Not gonna trip anytime soon, not to worry. And of course, thanks..umm..for you know, swiftly catching me in those muscular..." He halted, realizing at once that he was flailing his hands and rambling ridiculously. Coughing twice (in a most elegant manner possible) in an attempt to mask his foolish awkwardness, he managed to mumble a fairly composed "thank you once again" and "I got to make a move now" before weaving himself into the crowd, far away from those interesting blue eyes.

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><p>By the work of some strange miracle, Kurt decided to sneak a peak into the tent. And he immediately found what he had been looking for the past quarter-hour.<p>

He had grown quite a fair bit since Kurt last saw him and his muscles had definitely become larger and more defined, although he was still smaller than the other boys his age. And there he was, with his thick curly hair hidden almost entirely under a baseball cap, leaning forward in deep concentration as he carefully tossed hoops towards a cone that was positioned approximately four feet away from him. The first hoop went through the cone, and the small crowd around him erupted in cheers. The next hoop fell directly atop the first, followed by the third, fourth .. and eventually all seven hoops were stacked in a neat pile. The boy punched his fist in the air as the other boys surrounded him with high-fives and friendly pats on his back. Kurt smiled at the confidence exuded by this young teenager, a far cry from the timid, nervous ten-year-old he had met not too long ago. He was pleasantly surprised but genuinely happy that the boy had managed to find a group of people whom were willing to accept him for who he was.

The curly-haired teenager grinned triumphantly, flashing a set of neat, pearly-white teeth. There was a slight strain in his smile, but it was probably from fatigue. A girl with gleaming raven-black hair beamed proudly at him. Linking her hands in his, she planted a chaste kiss on his lips. The boy casually draped an arm over her shoulder as she snaked her slender arm around his waist. And like two young lovebirds, they walked out of the tent, blissfully oblivious to the man who was observing them from a distance.

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><p>Kurt walked behind the pair, keeping a discreetly 'stalk-able' distance from them. His heart stirred with an odd combination of indignation and empathy as the visual image remained freshly planted in his mind. He had to do something. He had to speak to Blaine, alone. He quickened his pace.<p>

But before he could take a step forward, his knees buckled and he sank heavily to the floor. A string of profanities escaped his lips as he made an unsuccessful attempt to lift himself up. His legs remained unmoving; it was as if his entire body was cemented to the ground.

"Fine, Artie! I get your message, dude. Now, would you be kind enough to allow me to regain my human capacity of walking?"

His legs remained lead-heavy. His body remained limp.

"Alright, I'm sorry, Artie. I apologize for stupidly trying to meddle with Blaine's past. He can enjoy the thrill of experimenting with girls for all I care. I promise I will not try to speak to him, or attempt to convince him otherwise." He stressed, a little louder this time. It was not like anyone would hear him anyway; his voice would be entirely drowned in the crowd.

He heaved a sign of relief as the weight on his legs vanished. He stood up quickly and walked in the direction of the lavatory.

"Now, no peeping, Artie. That would be very inappropriate. And, that's coming from a gay man."

Once in the lavatory, and presumably away from the prying watch of his dear scientist friend, Kurt fished out his notebook and a pen from his shoulder bag. A small smile played on his lips as he checked the time on his watch. Blaine's friends should still be in that tent, throwing hoops.

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><p>"Hey Blaine, some random dude told me to pass this to you. Said it's important." A teenage boy with frizzy red hair slid the folded paper across the table to his friend.<p>

"A guy? How does he look like? Do I know him?"

"Doubt so. He's kinda old, like in his mid-twenties."

"Oooh... Maybe he's a secret admirer, or better still, a prospective _sugar-daddy._" One of the girls added teasingly. The group erupted in catcalls and laughter as a blushing Blaine hurriedly shoved the note into his pocket.

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><p>Blaine pulled the baggy sweatshirt over his head and stepped out of his black denim trousers. Alone in his room, he felt free and unsuffocated. Sure, he liked going out with Aidan and the rest of the boys. And Nina, well, she's definitely a nice, lovely girl. The fair had been tolerable, almost enjoyable, even. He relished the comfort and security that accompanied the sense of being accepted as part of a group, but it was exhausting and he was unsure how much longer he could keep up with this pretense. His heart wrenched as he realized that he could no longer recognize the boy hidden beneath the oversized clothes.<p>

He picked up the note that had slipped out of his pants pocket and slowly unfolded it.

_Dear Blaine, _

_You'd probably not remember me, but we've met a long time ago. I hope you aren't too startled by this letter, I swear I mean no harm and have not the least bit of an ill intention._

_I guess I should start off with a little self-introduction here - I'm twenty-six, fresh out of law school and have just started working at a law firm. I've always loved singing and baking, have a pet parrot which refuses to shut up, had a wonderful relationship with someone I still love, and am now currently crazily obsessed with gardening. Except for a couple of downs here and there, life's pretty alright, I must say. _

_But there was a period for me, many many years ago, when I had felt as lost and confused as what you are feeling right now. I was born different, Blaine, just like you. I understand the frustration and self-loathing; the raw fear of rejection; the helplessness of drifting alone in a world where no one seems to understand. I know it may seem a much easier option to hide behind a mask, attempting to be someone whom you know society would accept you for. But this pretense can offer you only that much of a temporary relief. Believe me, it is less terrifying being a stranger to the world than to be a stranger to yourself. You can choose to stumble through life, lost and aimless, not ever truly knowing who are. Or you can take a brave step forward and embrace yourself. This is your life, Blaine – it belongs to you, not anyone else. Steer it in the direction you want to go, and you will eventually find what you're looking for. The journey will definitely be tough, many a time wrecked with hurt and disappointments, but one day, you would emerge stronger... and happier. _

_I know I may be overstepping my boundaries here; you may well possibly be thinking right now about what an obnoxious, interfering nosy-parker I am. You may decide to tear this letter into shreds and dump it into the trashcan, not remembering a single word that's penned in here. But I'm just hoping that you will realize, Blaine, that in this seemingly unkind world, there are people who genuinely care, and many more out there who are like us. You are not alone. _

_I've left my email address at the back of this note. Don't hesitate to drop me an email should you need any advice, or simply someone to talk to. Take care, and don't ever let anyone get you down. Remember, no one deserves to be made to feel like a freak. _

_You can do it, Blaine. All it takes is some courage._

_Wishing you all the best,  
><em>_Mr. H  
><em>_18th June, 2008._

Blaine wiped a tear off the corner of his eye, clutching the paper tightly in his other hand. The sender's words sounded oddly familiar. A vague, fuzzy image of sleek brown hair and greenish-blue eyes flashed in his mind.

Still clad in nothing but a pair of boxers, Blaine stood in front of his full-length mirror. And there, a boy stared back at him, naked and vulnerable but real.

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><p><em>Hope you guys like this chapter:)My schedule's kind of busy these days but I promise I'll update asap!<em>


	5. Chapter 5: I Just Can't

Chapter 5: If I can, I won't. But I can't.

Kurt was sitting in a cyber-cafe, with a plate of cookies and a mug of decaffeinated coffee. He checked his email account, and a wide grin spread over his face as he read a message that had just landed into his inbox.

**_To__:__ kurthummel __  
>From: artielovesbrit<br>__Date: 9-08-08  
>Time: 16:13<em>**

_Yo dude,  
><em>_  
>Great news! Brittany's PREGNANT! Woohoooo I can't believe I'm gonna be a Daddy soon:) Anyway, we'll be driving to my parents-in-law's place later and will probably be staying there for a week. So please, I trust you to <strong>behave yourself<strong> even if I'm not watching you, alright?  
><em>_Hope you are doing fine, wherever you are now. Brit and I send our warmest regards. She's really worried about you though. I keep telling her you are in a another time-dimension but she prefers to believe that you're being abducted by aliens.  
><em>_Email me if anything urgent crops up, ya? Don't think phone calls work across time-dimensions._

_P.S. Brit insists on me telling you that she can't wait to go maternity-wear shopping with you when you are back (or manage to escape) from space. Also, she says Lord Tubbington (III) sends you his warmest feline love._

_:), Artie_

Kurt chuckled and sent a quick reply to congratulate the couple and to reassure Brittany that he's all well and alive. Taking a sip from his coffee mug, he checked his other email account.

_**You have one new message**_

**_To: mister.h  
>From: blaine-courage<br>__Date:09-08-08  
>Time: 15:42<em>**

_Hi Mr H,_

_Yeah this week has been pretty okay, thanks much for concern. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, so it's good I guess. Just the usual gossiping, name-calling and weird stares. But I'm kinda used to it by now, so not to worry. I think I'm coping fine.  
><em>_Anyway, I have a big announcement to make. After thinking it through for nights, I've finally decided to open up to my parents...well, tell them the truth about my... sexuality. I guess. I really wanna do this but I'm terribly afraid of the consequences. I don't expect them to fully accept it, especially my dad. Just hope that they'd listen. And that they don't throw me out of the house.  
><em>_  
>Blaine<br>_

Leaning back against the backrest of his chair, Kurt thought for a moment before typing a reply.

**_To: blaine-courage  
><em>_From: mister.h  
><em>_Date:09-08-08  
>Time: 16:19<em>**

_Hi Blaine,_

_I'm sending you all the luck that I can possibly summon. It'll be good if you try to break the news to your parents politely but firmly. Intially, they may be unreceptive, agitated or enraged; there may even be spiteful words or verbal abuse involved. But instead of yelling back at them, try to keep your cool and explain things to them calmly and clearly. Give them some time to think things through. __I'm sure your parents love you enough to eventually understand and accept you completely for who you are.  
><em>_Oh and it'll be great to practise your lines a couple of times. And wear a lucky charm, if you have one.:) Let me know how the talk goes?_

_Wishing you all the best,  
><em>_Mr. H _

Five minutes later, a new message popped into his inbox.

_**_To: mister.h  
>From: blaine-courage<br>_**__**_Date:09-08-08  
>Time: 16:24<em>**_

_Hi Mr. H,_

_I've got a three-page-long speech prepared, and have rehearsed in front of the mirror at least a hundred times since morning. Crossing my fingers and wearing **two **lucky charms. __Thanks anyway for all that advice. Will update you tonight!_

_Blaine_

* * *

><p>Mrs Anderson was in her late-thirties but looked visibly younger than her age. She had a slender, lithe dancer's figure, and her face was strikingly pretty, with large green eyes framed by long curled lashes, high cheekbones and plump full lips. Her wavy dark chestnut hair fell loosely over her narrow shoulders. She nervously twirled a lock of her hair as she placed her other hand on her husband's lap.<p>

Mr Anderson, two years older than his wife, was about five-foot-seven and broad-shouldered. Having been a varsity football player and an avid swimmer, he was tanned, stocky and well-muscled. Thin lines had appeared on his forehead and around his deep-set hazel eyes, and the boyish charm of his youth had been replaced by a cold weary cynicism. His lips were set in a grim line. He sat silently beside his wife on the family couch, fingers drumming restlessly on the armrest and eyes fixed expressionlessly on his son.

Blaine sat on a chair, facing his his parents directly. He crossed and uncrossed his legs, and tucked his hands under his thighs to stop them from shaking. He took a slow, deep breath and cleared his throat nervously. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he realized it.

"Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something. Something about … me. About who I really am. It hurts so bad every single day, being so alone and confused and afraid. I may be loathed, rejected, abused by everyone else, but as long as I have both of you here by my side, loving and supporting me, I know that everything's gonna be fine. I really need you both, Mom and Dad. I really hope that I'd always be the perfect little boy in your heart, no matter what happens... and that you will still love me the same way... even if I'm... gay."

The world around them seemed to stagnate as a thick, dark silence cut the air.

"Mom... Dad...?" His choked voice was barely above a whisper.

Heavy breathing. Clock ticking. Faint voices coming from the neighbors' lawn.

"Oh Blaine sweetie, now don't be silly..." Mrs Anderson let out a piercingly high-pitched laugh as her hands unconsciously fluttered up to pat her hair in an aimless, distracted way.

"I'm not."

"Oh yes you are, darling, my poor little confused boy. I can still clearly recall those awkward teenage years of mine. All that self-consciousness and uncertainty – unsure of who you are, unsure of your _preferences –"_

"Mom. I. Am. Sure. Without a doubt." He tried desperately to catch his mother's eyes, pleading her to understand.

"Blaine, you're only _**fourteen**__. _How can you possibly be certain? Why don't you wait for a couple of years.. and maybe you'll find a nice lovely girl one day and decide that – "

"Mom, please stop this. I repeat, I'm perfectly, hundred percent sure that I'm gay, alright? I _**know**_ you know it too...you've _always_ known that I'm different from the other boys, don't you? I'm gay, Mom, and _**that**_ is a fact of who I am, and denying it isn't gonna change a thing or make it any less of a fact."

"Blaine..." Her beautiful face was pained and broken. Her eyes flickered helplessly to her husband.

"Why can't you understand? Being gay is not something I can choose! You think I like being the way I am? Given a choice, I would have done anything, _anything_ at all, to be a normal, straight guy!" He bursted out pleadingly, his voice rising a notch higher as raw, repressed emotions threatened to break free. "You have no idea how much it sucks being me. You can never imagine the kind of shit I have to face everyday, every waking moment of these past fourteen years. Do you have _any_ idea how hard it is to wake up every morning in fear and dread, wondering what new abuse awaits me in school? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to ignore the hot, burning humiliation every time someone screams "fucking faggot" in my face? Do you have any idea how many times I've to gobble down food in between classes because I can't step into the cafeteria without having someone shove food down my shirt every other day? Do you have any _fucking_ idea how horrible it feels to have to go through every single day with a forced smile, pretending that all these insults and bullying don't matter, when I'm actually walking down hallways left with barely a shred of dignity and self-worth?"

Tears were spilling over his cheeks. His heart thumped wildly against his chest. His throat hurt from the near-hysterical yelling. He inhaled deeply and continued in a soft pain-stricken voice.

"But, I don't have a choice, Mom. There are only two options for me here– One, accept myself for who I am and continue to deal with the rejection and ridicule. Two, deny my true self, and I don't know, maybe eventually marrying a girl whom I know I can never be happy with, and live the rest of my life in misery. Or grow old all alone, bringing this dirty little secret of mine to the grave. I choose option one, Mom, because I want a real life, not one that's draped in miserable lies and denial..."

Mrs Anderson wept silently, burying her face in her hands.

"I don't buy any of this shit. You can put an end to this nonsense. You can be a normal, real man. But you just don't want to." The voice was gruff and scathing, laced with a perceptible tint of disgust.

It was easy to forget that he was even there. He had not spoken a single word till now. His face was twisted in a look of contemptuous hostility as he stared pointedly away from his son.

His son stared at him, visibly hurt and angered as the meaning of his words sank in.

"Now that you know I'm gay, am I no longer deserving of your affection?" He began brokenly. "Am I now unworthy to be your son? Do I _disgust_ you so much that you can't even bring yourself to look at me?"

"I will not have my child speaking to me like that. This talk is over. Go to bed now." Mr Anderson turned to look directly at his son, his face set in an expression of blank, stubborn denial.

Blaine gave a helpless glance at his mother. Her face was streaked with the tracks of drying tears. There was a soft sadness in her face, mingled with traces of a weary, helpless resignation. She remained silent.

"You simply refuse to understand. You won't even try. You would rather ignore and hide from whatever that threatens to destroy this perfect little world you live in, not caring the least bit who you end up hurting in the way. You disappoint me, dad," Blaine hissed, glaring at his father with bitter accusation and resentment. Wiping his tears with the back of his hand, he ran up to his room and slammed the door.

* * *

><p><em><strong><em>To: mister.h<br>From: blaine-courage  
><em>**__**_Date:09-08-08  
>Time: 22:45<em>**_

__It went horribly.  
>Hurting so bad:( Can we meet somewhere please? If it's not too inconvenient for you. <em>_

* * *

><p><em><strong><em>To: blaine-courage<br>_**__**_From: mister.h  
><em>**__**_Date:09-08-08  
>Time: 22:49<em>**_

_Hey Blaine,_

_I'm so sorry to hear about that. Sure we can meet, but it's kinda late now and you've school the next day. I'll be at the cyber-cafe at Goodwood Mall. Why don't you meet there after your classes? Try to have a good rest tonight, alright? Take care, Blaine._

_Courage._

_Mr. H _


	6. Chapter 6: Questions

Chapter 6: Questions

_Songs: Strangers like me, by Phil Collins. Once upon a dream, by Emily Osment._

* * *

><p>"Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt, but is this seat taken?"<p>

"Yeah, sorry, I'm waiting for a – "

Kurt tore his eyes away from the newspaper and was met with the pleasant surprise of a familiar face. He was dressed smartly in an ebony-black suit and tailored pants, and in his right hand was a brown leather briefcase.

"Hey, it's you. Wow what a coincidence. Didn't expect to see you again so soon. Oh.. no don't get me wrong, not that I'm complaining, I'd love to see you again – umm no I mean, it's lovely...that we are meeting again..."

The man was looking at him with an amused smile, his deep-set blue eyes twinkling with mirth. He spoke in a voice that reminded Kurt of the low, musical rustling of autumn leaves.

"Mind if I take a seat first? Since your friend hasn't turned up yet? All the other seats are occupied, I'm afraid."

"Oh yeah, sure."

"Thanks." The man flashed with him a warm grateful grin as he sat down opposite him and placed his coffee cup on the table.

There was a comfortable silence between them. The man quietly sipped his coffee as he flipped open his laptop, while Kurt kept his eyes firmly locked on the newspaper, though his thoughts were hardly on the contents of the articles. His attention was lost to those silvery-blue eyes. It wasn't even remotely a romantic attraction; it was just that this stranger had seemed... inexplicably intriguing. Kurt sneaked a quick, discreet look over his papers and met his gaze. He could not help feeling an odd sense of affinity with this man.

"We haven't met before, have we?" Kurt blurted out. "I mean, before the night at the fair."

The man looked at him intently with an inscrutable expression. He seemed to be deep in thought.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to freak you out with such a random question. I have no idea what possessed me to ask that..but I just thought that you – " Kurt stuttered, chiding himself for his inappropriate words.

"It's okay, there's no reason for you to apologize." The man smiled reassuringly, and added almost inaudibly. "No I don't think we've met. Not in here at least. But maybe somewhere else."

"I don't quite understand..."

"It's okay. You will. Eventually. " The man stood up as a curly-haired teenager approached their table. A strange expression of startled recognition flashed fleetingly across his face as his eyes lingered for a moment on the boy. He gestured to the boy to take his seat, and turned to Kurt. "I'll make a move, looking forward to seeing you again." With a slight, polite nod, he took his coffee cup and left.

* * *

><p>"Hi.." Blaine said shyly as he took a seat opposite the enigmatic stranger whom he had been exchanging emails with for the past two months. He found it nearly impossible to tear his gaze away from the neatly-styled medium-brown hair; the lively blue-green eyes; the fair porcelain-smoothness of his face; the rosy tint of his cheeks, and those smooth, pink lips...<p>

_Damn, Blaine Anderson. What's wrong with you? Quit staring, already. Now. _

Blaine cleared his throat nervously and prayed that the burning heat that was creeping up his face wasn't showing up too visibly. He lowered his head and vehemently stared down at his own hands.

"Hey, Blaine." Kurt studied him in concern, and leaned forward to casually place a hand over his. "How' re you feeling? Better today?"

Blaine flinched, instantly pulling his hand away from Kurt's. "Not really." He mumbled as he kept his eyes averted. He shifted nervously in his seat.

Kurt frowned in puzzlement. Blaine seemed withdrawn and reticent, and almost frightened. He hoped this was was nothing more than an aftereffect of the unsuccessful talk he had with his parents last night. He wondered if he had overstepped his boundaries, and if his physical presence was making Blaine uncomfortable.

"Blaine.. Let's go. I'll bring you somewhere. It will make you feel better, I swear."

"Where to?" Blaine asked in a small voice. He shifted in his chair, fingers fiddling distractedly with the tablecloth.

"You'll know when we get there." Kurt answered excitedly. The teenager considered for a moment; an expression of curiosity mingled with uncertainty flickered over his face. It was then Kurt realized that he was now more than ten years Blaine's senior and well, it shouldn't be surprising that Blaine, a newly out-of-the-closet gay teen boy, would have some reservations about going to some unknown place alone with a gay man who's practically a stranger.

"Oh crap, I shouldn't have said that. I understand if you're uncomfortable with it, Blaine It's perfectly fine if you don't want to, I mean, you barely even know who I am and it just wouldn't be right for me to – "

"It's okay."

"Wha – "

"I'm cool. Let's go, Mr H. I know this may sound really weird but I just feel.. like I've known you for a long time... even though I know we've hardly met." Blaine finally looked up from his hands. "You seem to understand me, in a way that no else can..."

Kurt broke into a wide smile. _Of course I understand you darling. We've spent nearly eight years together, after all. _

* * *

><p>"<em>Ooo, these emotions I never knew<em>  
><em>Of some other world far beyond this place<em>  
><em>Beyond the trees, above the clouds<em>  
><em>I see before me a new horizon<em>

_I wanna know, can you show me_  
><em>I wanna know, about these strangers like me<em>  
><em>Tell me more, please show me<em>  
><em>Something's familiar about these strangers like me<em>

_Come with me now to see my world_  
><em>Where there's beauty beyond your dreams<em>  
><em>Can you feel the things I feel<em>  
><em>Right now, with you<em>  
><em>Take my hand<em>  
><em>There's a world I need to know<em>

_I wanna know, can you show me_  
><em>I wanna know, about these strangers like me<em>  
><em>Tell me more, please show me<em>  
><em>Something's familiar about these strangers like me<em>

..._I wanna know..."_

"Seems like you are a fan of Disney songs," Kurt commented as the music playing from the car stereo died down.

"Yeah. Love Disney songs. My mom says I've been singing them since I was five. Wanna guess what's the first Disney song I learned?"

"A whole new world?" It was a quick, unthinking, automatic response.

"Oh my God, _wow_. Like seriously, how did you know that?"

"Lucky guess," Kurt replied, his lips curling into a knowing smile. He cast a quick sidelong glance at the boy sitting in the passenger seat. He was certainly looking more at ease now, after they had sung along to at least five Disney songs in the car.

"You sing beautifully," he added.

"Thank you. Sing every time I'm in the shower. Guess practice makes perfect, huh? Anyway, I think you're a way better singer than I am. Were you in some choir group?"

"Yup, show choir club in my high school days. And was in an acapella group in college. How about you? Do you do singing in school?"

"Nah. Oh well.. the teacher-in-charge doesn't really like me cos I was... well you know. So yeah. Not like I'd wanna join them anyway..the guys there are rather snotty."

"That sucks. A complete waste of that awesome voice of yours."

"Oh it's alright, really. I'll never be able to sing in front of a whole crowd of people anyway. I'm terribly shy. I'd only look like a complete fool."

Kurt chuckled as he recalled the charismatic, confident lead vocalist of Dalton High. "Well, have some faith in yourself, Blaine. Everything in life requires that tiny first step. Never ever convince yourself that you can't do something till you have tried it. You do have what it takes, trust me."

"I'm sure you're only saying that to make me feel better," Blaine muttered. He stared out of the window, a solemn, contemplative look on his face. "Umm.. Mr H, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Blaine. You know you can talk to me about anything."

"I've been wondering... why are you so kind to me? I mean, why would you go all way out to help me, when we barely knew each other?"

_I know you; I walked with you once upon a dream  
><em>_I know you; the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam..._

"Technically, I'm not a stranger to you. Remember what I had said in my first letter? We've met before." Kurt replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. "It may not be that many years ago since I last saw you, but it definitely felt so," he continued absently in a soft, faraway voice. There was a look of sad wistfulness in his eyes. Never could he imagine that this sweet, innocent teenager would grow up to be one to break his heart.

Blaine considered his words, feeling slightly puzzled. "Mr H... did you once work at Springhill Elementary School?"

"Yeah." Blaine noticed that the man had tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Admin staff? With a set of spare keys? Third-floor classroom at the end of the corridor?

"I'm impressed. Great memory you have there."

"You can be honest with me, Mr H. I won't judge you I swear. Who.. are you exactly? I know you weren't a staff there. I checked with the office that very day. They told me they hadn't hired any new personnel. And I checked the school website – there was no photo of you in the staff list either."

The man in the driver seat sighed. He continued staring straight ahead, his gaze unmoving.

"You knew me before the day we met in the fourth-grade classroom, didn't you?"

That seemed to have caught his attention. He jerked his head towards Blaine and looked at him in the eye for a split second.

"Well.. yeah, you were about five. I was.. ummm .. an old acquaintance of your dad. Happened to pass by your place that day and he invited me into your house."

He's_ an adorably horrible liar. Dad hates visitors. And he doesn't even keep in touch with his old friends.. well.. not like he has any friends anyway. _

"Oh. Okay, I see. So..we've met when I was little... but that doesn't exactly explain why you would be so kind to me." Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt noticed that the boy was looking at him expectantly.

_Because I loved you. And I think I still do, despite what you did to me._

"Because you are.. like me, and I can't help but see myself in you. I understand how tough things can get, Blaine. And I want to help you, in the same way that a special someone had done for me."

There was a brief moment of stillness as both of them drifted away in their own thoughts and memories.

"Anyway, here we are." Kurt said cheerfully, breaking the silence. He parked the car in the lot and turned off the engine. "Come on, Blaine, let's go."

* * *

><p><em>Hope you liked this! Just a little start into their face-to-face interaction. More Klaine goodness to come:)<em>


	7. Chapter 7: Wish You Knew

Chapter 7: Wish you knew

Song: _Courage is_ (by The Strange Familiar)

* * *

><p>"ARHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"<p>

"It helps, doesn't it?" Kurt remarked, standing behind him with a boyish grin.

"Yeah it's amazing. Never knew that screaming your lungs out at the sea would feel so good." The teenager replied, a little breathless and pink in the face.

"It helps to remove the pent-up emotions. And you do seem to have a lot of those."

"Yeah, I guess." Blaine sat down cross-legged on the breakwater, facing the vast expanse of the bluish-green sea glistening in the sunlight. It was low tide. Waves were lapping slowly and gently against the pale fine sand.

"So.. how are things with your parents? You talked to them today?" He took a seat next to the boy. Their shoulders touched. They could almost hear each rise and fall of a breath, each rhythm of a heartbeat.

"Nah. They left for work before I woke up." He tossed a pebble into the water. It landed with a soft splash, creating a beautiful pattern of ripples. "That's what they do best. Denying and escaping. Pretending nothing's wrong. Pretending the talk didn't exist. Pretending I'm who they want me to be."

"It takes time, Blaine. Everything in this world does."

"I don't know. I don't think they will ever accept me for who I am. It'll be unthinkable; imagine the terrifying humiliation of living in an up-town estate with a _gay_ son! What would the wealthy, high-society neighbors think? It would be _disastrous_ for the family's reputation." His voice dripped with bitter resentment.

"Blaine, your parents do love you – "

"I don't think so. They love the before-I-knew-you-were-gay Blaine. Not too sure if I still mean the same to them now." He mumbled, tossing another pebble, this time harder and further, into the sea. "And it hurts so damn bad, because I had let myself hope – hope like a blind fool – that they, of all people, will offer me just the tiniest bit of support I so desperately need. But they didn't."

He lifted his head and gazed blankly at the sky above him, watching silently at the clouds floating lazily across the pale blue blanket. He felt like one of them, drifting fortuitously from one place to another, lost and aimless in an endless, empty world. He could only be a passer-by – an outsider who could never actually belong. He would always be a stranger, even in his own home.

"Blaine, how long did it take for you to be completely comfortable with being gay?"

"Umm. I guess, recently? I dated a girl a while back.. just so to fit in at school. I knew it was a huge mistake from the start... "

"So you see, Blaine, if it takes you nearly fourteen long years to fully come to terms with your sexuality, you can't possibly expect your parents to be supportive in just a couple of days." Kurt placed a hand lightly on the boy's shoulder. "Give your parents a bit more time – a few months, or maybe even a couple of years, and believe me, they will eventually understand. Things will get better..."

"How do you know?" It was the same curious, expectant look, filled with doubt and disbelief mingled with just the slightest tint of hopefulness.

"I just do. Trust me."

"Okay, if you say so." The teenager turned toward Kurt. "Enough of me for now.. what about you, Mr H? How did your parents react when you told them?"

"Well thankfully, my dad was pretty understanding about it, much to my pleasant surprise." Kurt chuckled as the memory of his father frowning disapprovingly at his form-fitting sweaters came to mind. "As for my mum, I'd never know. Though I believe she would have been just as supportive. She passed away when I was barely six."

"I'm so sorry..."

"Oh don't be. It's a long long time ago. And I've long accepted it. That's life, Blaine. Occasionally sweet and rosy, but most of the time, it's a mega-bitch." A wave of resigned sadness swept over his features. "And sometimes, people just leave, suddenly, without reason, without warning. We may try to bring them back, but really, most of the time there's nothing we can do about it."

They stared ahead wordlessly. The sun was setting now, casting a warm, golden glow on the water. A pink-and-orange billow of foamy clouds hung above the sea.

"Mr H...?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you lose someone else dear to you? Besides your mom?"

The man sighed deeply. His heart twisted silently in a turbulent riot.

"Yes I did."

"Boyfriend?"

"Yeah. We met in high school. Went to separate colleges, lived through a long-distance relationship for four years, and stayed together for a while after we graduated. But then one day, he just left. Without even saying goodbye. And I never saw him since."

The man spoke with a detached dullness. He continued staring ahead, wondering how the pale crimson clouds could possibly transform so quickly into a dull, gray fog.

"It was a Monday night. When I came home, the apartment was empty. At first I thought that he was working late, but when he was still not back after midnight, I got worried. His phone was switched off. Phoned his colleague and was told that he had left work at seven. His parents didn't answer my calls either. And then the next morning, he sent me an email. It was a brief, curt message – barely even 3 sentences. He apologized, and said he had to go because he couldn't love me anymore. That very evening, he sent movers to our place. I shrieked and screamed and cursed and kicked. But the movers just came and left, leaving the house stripped bare of any last trace of him. I sat on the bedroom floor, crying through the night. I couldn't sleep on the bed for weeks... it smelt too much like him." He let out an abrupt laugh, forced and bitter. "Till his day, I had no idea what went wrong between us."

Kurt was now looking at the boy beside him. He searched desperately for answers in those beautiful hazel eyes. But he found none.

"You didn't quite believe him, did you? What he said, about not loving you?" The boy asked in a small voice brimming with such pure, genuine innocence that Kurt had to bite his lip to stop himself from screaming in tears.

"I had convinced myself he was lying.. and that there must be other plausible reasons why he had left so abruptly. But now, I'm not so sure. I started asking myself whether he had really stopped loving me." Blaine shifted a little uncomfortably under the intense gaze of those piercing blue-green eyes. "It had been three years, Blaine. Never once did he contact me. None of his friends seemed to know where he was. I couldn't even reach his parents; the neighbors said they'd moved away. "

"... I'm sorry for your pain, Mr H."

Kurt brushed away a lone drop of tear._ If only he knew._

"You know what, Blaine? I've tried so hard all this while to move on but deep down inside, I know I can never let go completely. I still believe in him..and in us. I guess when you truly love someone, you can't bring yourself to give up on them, no matter how deeply they'd hurt you. Not entirely, at least. You'll always cling onto that last, tiny shred of hope no matter how bleak and tragic it all seems."

"You're an amazing person, Mr H. I hope you find your happiness back. "

"I hope so too, Blaine. I'm working on that. Doing all I can to seek the answers I need."

The sky darkened and blended in seamlessly with the sea to form a spread of deep gray. The fog was getting denser. It formed a thick veil over the water like a drawn white curtain, seemingly impenetrable to everything except the rays of light from a distant lighthouse.

"I wish I could be like you, Mr H. "

Kurt chuckled. "You have no idea of my imperfections, young lad."

"You're everything I wanna be. Eloquent and confident and proud of who you are. Whereas I'm dorky and timid and nervous all the time."

"Oh trust me, I used to be jumpy and awkward too when I was your age."

"And I really hate my zits and freckles and this ridiculously-stubbornly-curly hair. Urgh." Blaine tugged at a curl in disdain.

Kurt raised his eyebrow in amusement. "Are you serious? I think your hair's ador – ."

"And I'm so scrawny and hobbitish and – "

"Hey, hey, let's put an end to this negative self-judgment, alright? Look at me Blaine, your hair's _gorgeous_. And you've got one of the loveliest smile I've ever seen. And you've got a beautiful singing voice. Don't you worry about those blemishes, I can teach you all about proper skincare and moisturizing, which I'm sure, would solve all your skin problems in no time." He laughed at the expression of utter disbelief on the boy's face. "And I have to add, I think you're adorable."

Blaine lowered his eyes shyly.

"Alright I know what..." Kurt grinned as an idea hit him. "I listen to this every time I'm feeling upset or insecure. Never fails to make me feel better."

He stood up and pulled the boy up with him. Taking his hand, he started to sing.

"_**Take all my vicious words  
><strong>__**And turn them into something good  
><strong>__**Take all my preconceptions  
><strong>__**And let the truth be understood**_

_**Take all my prized possessions  
><strong>__**Leave only what I need  
><strong>__**Take all my pieces of doubt  
><strong>__**And let me be what's underneath.."**_

Blaine felt himself transported by the sheer beauty of the voice.

"_**Courage is... when you're afraid  
><strong>__**But you keep on moving, anyway  
><strong>__**Courage is... When you're in pain  
><strong>__**But you keep on living, anyway.."**_

_His hands feel really soft... _

"_**We all have excuses why  
><strong>__**Living in fear  
><strong>__**Something in us dies  
><strong>__**Like a bird with broken wings  
><strong>__**It's not how high he flies  
><strong>__**But the song he sings**_

_**It's not how many times  
><strong>__**You've been knocked down  
><strong>__**It's how many times  
><strong>__**You get back up.."**_

_How could anyone have such beautiful, expressive eyes?_

_**"Courage is... When you've lost you way  
><strong>__**But you find your strength, anyway  
><strong>__**Courage is... When you're afraid  
><strong>__**Courage is... When it all seems grey  
><strong>__**Courage is... When you make a change  
><strong>__**And you keep on living, anyway  
><strong>__**You keep on moving, anyway  
><strong>__**You keep on giving, anyway**_

_**You keep on loving, anyway.."**_

Blaine was sure that his cheeks and the tips of his ears were turning a bright crimson red. He knew he was smiling like a goofy kid, and was sure that he had lost all capacity for intelligible speech. This beautiful man beside him definitely knew how to make things better.


	8. Chapter 8: 'Twas the Night Before X'mas

**Chapter 8: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas**

Songs: _Christmas Eve_, by Celine Dion, _Falling for you_, by Colbie Caillat

* * *

><p><strong>To: mister.h<br>****From: blaine-courage  
><strong>**Date: 16-12-08  
><strong>**Time: 20:22  
><strong>Hey Mr H,  
>My folks will be away at a social dinner on x'mas eve. I was just wondering, would you like to come over for dinner? That is, if you have no other plans on that day.<br>Blaine

**To: blaine-courage  
><strong>**From: mister.h  
><strong>**Date: 16-12-08  
><strong>**Time: 20:28  
><strong>Hi Blaine,  
>Yeah I'd love to. By the way, any wish-list for x'mas this year? I can be your Santa ;)<br>Mr H

**To: mister.h  
><strong>**From: blaine-courage  
><strong>**Date: 16-12-08  
><strong>**Time: 20:32  
><strong>Nah, not really. I'll be happy with whatever you get me:)  
>How about 8pm? Is it okay with you?<br>Blaine

**To: blaine-courage  
><strong>**From: mister.h  
><strong>**Date: 16-12-08  
><strong>**Time: 20:35  
><strong>Hi Blaine,  
>Sure, eight's great:)<br>Mr H

* * *

><p><em>Walkin' with you in a winter's snow<br>Kissin' underneath the mistletoe  
>People smiling everywhere we go<br>It's Christmas Eve and they can see we're in love...  
><em>

Blaine busied himself in the house, doing a final inspection to make sure that everything was perfect.

_Turkey. Checked_

_Minced pies. Checked_

_Decorated Christmas tree. Checked._

_Sparkling juice. Checked._

_Christmas gift. Checked._

_Candles. Checked._

_Guitar. Checked. _

Blaine frowned as he continued pacing the room, going through the checklist once again. He smoothed out the creases on the tablecloth and rearranged the candle-holders. He wondered if he ought to rehearse the song once more but then decided that his fingers would be too shaky to play anything anyway. His stomach was churning frenziedly. He felt almost as nauseously nervous as he did on the day he came out to his parents.

_Stay cool Anderson, this is NOT a date. Maybe this whole dinner was a bad idea in the first place. Argh what the hell were you thinking when you decided to use those candles. And no, you are not going to do the song and make an utter embarrassment of yourself. Argh, the candles, maybe you should remove them _– _too flamboyant. You don't wanna look like a childishly-smitten fool in front of him. And the table cloth, maybe you should have chosen a navy blue instead. And the gift, he probably wouldn't fancy it – _

Blaine glanced out of the window and gasped when he spotted a figure in a Burberry trench coat walking towards the house. His guest had arrived earlier than he'd expected.

_Oh my god, HAIR, Blaine. You forgot to comb your hair._

The boy sprinted up to his room, nearly tripping over the steps.

* * *

><p><em>Ooh, you make the season bright<br>With the lights reflecting in your eyes  
>All my dreams are comin' true tonight<br>It's Christmas Eve and I can see we're in love..._

Kurt stood before the familiar blue-and-white mansion. These six months in the past, or two days in the present depending on how you see it, had been the most peculiar yet thrilling period of his life so far. It was all still unbelievably surreal, spending time with the younger self of the boy whom he had loved and missed so dearly. He knew he shouldn't be with the boy so often, yet he could hardly restrain himself. This was still the same boy he had met in high school, the same Blaine whom he had fallen in love with that very day they met at Dalton High. This was the fourteen-year old boy who would, in three years time, dance with him at junior prom; in five years time, kiss him goodbye at the airport; in seven years time, tour Europe with him; in nine years time, announce that he would marry no one else but Kurt Hummel.

And in ten years time, make the decision to disappear from his life forever.

A sharp pang of sadness pierced his heart as memories of Blaine came sweeping in. Not the presently-in-the-past Blaine, but the present-world Blaine who had chosen to become a part of his past. Where does the past end and where does the future begin, he had no idea. Who is to judge which is real and which is a mere, short-lived dream? Perhaps they are both weaved together in a seamless tapestry; there just isn't a distinct line that separates what lies now, and what it used to be.

Kurt knew that they would probably not see each other again, in the present and future. But he was not prepared to let him go away just yet.

He walked towards the gleaming marble doorstep and rang the doorbell.

* * *

><p>"Oh my, Blaine, this is fabulously stunning." Kurt gushed as he stepped into the dining room. His eyes lingered on the bronze candle holders and the tall cream-colored candles.<p>

"_They're beautiful, Blaine."_

"_Yeap. And they smell nice too."_

_Blaine smiled as he watched his boyfriend bring the candle close to his nose and adorably took a sniff. "Vanilla." Kurt stated happily. _

"_Yeap. I personally would go for lavender though. But I know how much you love vanilla." Blaine grinned and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist from behind. He nuzzled his face in the small curve of his boyfriend's neck, smiling against the smooth, fair skin. _

"_Well, yes I love vanilla. But I love you more." Kurt replied as he playfully pinched the boy's nose._

"_Ewww. You're cheesy."_

"_Oh please, darling.. you know I can't hold a **candle **to you." They dissolved in a silly fit of giggles. With Blaine's arms still wrapped tightly around him, Kurt tilted his head back as Blaine cupped his face gently and inched forward..._

"Mr H, is there something wrong? Is it the candles? Oh no are you allergic to vanilla? Crap I should have asked you before I –"

Kurt jolted back from his memories and to the present – the present that lay in a world of the past. Those memories would remain only as an irrevocable part of what had passed, and he had to leave them behind.

"No, no. I was just..reminded of something when I saw them. Nothing important anyway," he smiled as he took a seat at the table.

"Okay great." said Blaine as he fidgeted in his chair. "I made dinner today. Do try it and offer me your honest opinion." He smiled at the awed expression on the man's face.

"Are you serious? I do know you are an excellent cook but I never knew you could cook this well when you were this young." He caught the boy looking at him in puzzlement. "I mean, I.. well.. I just have this impression that you'd make a good cook. And wow, the turkey looks amazing."

"But you haven't even tasted it."

"I don't need to. The aroma says it all." Kurt grinned as he took a bite. "Oh my god, this tastes even better that it smells. Absolutely délicieux." He proclaimed in a dramatic fashion and exaggeratedly raised an eyebrow to indicate his amazement.

Blaine exhaled and broke into a wide, relieved smile. Maybe this dinner wasn't that bad an idea after all.

* * *

><p>"You made this on your own? Seriously, how many times are you intending to impress me in one night?" Kurt exclaimed as he wrapped the teal scarf happily around his neck. They had finished their dinner and were now on the couch exchanging Christmas gifts.<p>

"My grandma taught me knitting when I was eleven. But I haven't exactly knitted anything for a while so – "

"This is a beautiful masterpiece, young man. You ought to be proud of yourself." Kurt looked fondly at the boy. "Really, Blaine. You need to be more confident about yourself. You're a far more amazing person than you think you are."

The boy's face lit up with a smile so radiant that it would have possibly illuminated the entirety of the colossal mansion. Never in his life had anyone said such kind words to him. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was someone more than a nerdy fourteen-year-old outcast.

"Really glad that you like it, Mr H. I had a hard time choosing the color. Was considering between maroon and teal. But went with teal in the end 'cause I think it matches your eyes." Blaine replied. He prayed he hadn't said anything ridiculous, for he wasn't sure he was even conscious of the words that tumbled out of his mouth. He found himself uncontrollably staring, once again, into those blue-green eyes. The warm apricot glow of the light cast a strange brilliance on them, making them look brighter and greener than usual. He let his eyes drift slowly down to those lips, and then to the arch of that slender neck, and finally to the small pale triangle of skin that lay just above the neckline of the red v-necked pullover.

"I love it," Kurt corrected, firmly meeting his gaze. He slowly leaned his body forward, tilting his face just the slightest bit closer.

There was a pregnant pause through which unsaid words and unexpressed emotions were exchanged. An old clock lay on the marble mantelpiece beside the couch. It ticked away relentlessly.

"S-Shall we watch a movie?" Kurt jerked his head back abruptly, pressing his back against the cushion. He fixed his gaze on the old clock, his eyes following each rhythmic movement of the second hand. The man and boy sat side by side, separated not by mere inches but an immeasurable distance. Two people in the same physical space, yet trapped in two different worlds of time.

"I.. no. Not now. There's something I need to tell you." The fierce determination of the boy's voice surprised them both.

In one swift movement, Blaine reached for the guitar that lay beneath the cocktail table.

"Remember the song you sang to me at the beach?" he asked softly. "I'd like to return the favor. I.. I have a song that I wanna sing to you too."

Kurt nodded. He could barely trust himself to speak.

**"_I don't know but  
>I think I may be<br>Fallin' for you  
>Dropping so quickly"<em>**

A landslide of emotions coursed through his body. But whether it was joy or anguish, Kurt had no idea.

**"_Maybe I should  
>Keep this to myself<br>Waiting 'til I  
>Know you better<br>I am trying  
>Not to tell you<br>But I want to  
>I'm scared of what you'll say"<em>**

_I'm scared of what I'll do. I can't let this continue, Blaine._

"**_So I'm hiding what I'm feeling  
>But I'm tired of<br>Holding this inside my head"_**

_I wish I could tell you. But that wouldn't change anything anyway. _

"_**I've been spending all my time  
>Just thinking about ya<br>I don't know what to do  
>I think I'm fallin' for you"<strong>_

_Please stop looking at me like that, Blaine. You're making things really difficult. _

_**I've been waiting all my life  
>And now I found ya<br>I don't know what to do  
>I think I'm fallin' for you<br>I'm fallin' for you..."**_

_You have no idea how much this is killing me right now. _

_**I can't stop thinking about it  
>I want you all around me<br>And now I just can't hide it  
>I think I'm fallin' for you<br>I'm fallin' for you...**_

The last word ended on a perfect note. Blaine tore his gaze away from the blue-green eyes that had remained expressionless throughout the entire song. The man sat unmoving in a wordless stillness.

An empty silence resonated in the large living hall. The ticking of the clock seemed to be amplified.

"It was just a random song I picked. It.. didn't mean anything."

"I do hope so."

"You hated it."

"No. I liked it."

"You weren't pleased with the song. Your eyes weren't smiling the same way they do when you're happy."

"Blaine.."

"Isn't it easier to let go and move on? You know, I'll be more than willing to help you with that."

The boy was staring at him almost defiantly. Kurt lowered his eyes.

"Blaine, we can't – "

"Why not?"

Another tense pause; it endured painfully. Words halted as abruptly as they started. Only the ticking sound in the background continued.

"You're only fourteen, while I'm twenty-six..."

"Age is only an issue of mind over matter. It shouldn't matter if we don't mind. I know I don't."

"But I do mind."

"No I don't think you do. You looked like you wanted to kiss me just now."

"... I'm sorry, Blaine. I shoudn't.. hurt you like that."

"Why so? Why can't we - "

"I can't forget him. And so I can't love you."

"Then why the hell do you look at me all the time like I meant something special?" Blaine inquired accusingly. "Tell me then.. tell me it isn't true. That it's nothing but my misinterpretation. That I've been foolishly imagining it all."

"It was a folly on my part, not yours. I'm sorry.. I- I just can't. It's my fault. I never should have done this. You deserve someone better, Blaine. You'll find someone who will love you in a way that I can't..."

"How do you know...?" It came out as a choked, wounded cry.

"I just do."

Those words encompassed not a spark of hope but an overwhelming sense of sad finality.

The boy turned his head towards the mantelpiece. His eyes fastened on the old clock.

"It's getting late. I guess you should leave now."

They both stood up together, and walked in silence down the long hallway towards the front door. And found themselves standing at the doorway where a mistletoe hung mockingly above them.

"Please forget me, Blaine."

"Yes, I'll try."

Kurt pulled the boy into a tight hug. He allowed his hand to linger on the dark curly hair. He allowed himself to memorize each sound of his breath, each rhythm of his heartbeat, each touch of his skin. He allowed himself to hold on, just a little while longer. They savored the last of their embrace, both well-aware that this was but an unspoken final goodbye.

"I hope you move on too, Mr H." Blaine stood on tiptoes, breathing in the scent of the man's cologne one last time.

Kurt blinked back his tears, but a drop had already trickled down his cheek. It fell onto the boy's shoulder, forming a dark spot on the pale green shirt.

"Mr H?" The boy spoke softly against the smooth, pale curve of the man's collarbone.

"Yes, Blaine?"

"Before you go, can I at least know your real name?"

"I'm afraid not, Blaine. Maybe we'll meet again. When you're older. And then I'll tell you."

With that, the man unwrapped his arms around the boy's back. He swiftly placed a chaste, light kiss on the boy's cheek, and stepped out of the house. Blaine stood at the door, watching him walk across the lawn, out of the gate, and onto the sidewalk. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a teal scarf and black trench coat. And then he could see no more.

He unclasped the Christmas gift that was wrapped around his wrist and flipped it over. He brushed his fingers gently over the letters engraved on the back of the watch.

COURAGE.

* * *

><p><em>Hope you liked this:) Reviewscomments are very much appreciated thank you!_


	9. Chapter 9: Teenage Dream

_Hello guys, thanks so much for all your kind comments:) T__his coming week will be tragically hectic so I'll probably update much less frequently booo:( oh well unless grown-up Kurt and younger Blaine continue to relentlessly ravage my mind:)_

_Anyway, here's a new chapter! It's somewhat like a transitory chapter so it'll be much briefer than the previous one, but hope you like it nevertheless!_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 9: Teenage Dream<span>

Song: I love you, goodbye by Celine Dion

* * *

><p><em>The world was spinning. His head throbbed painfully. The sound of a ticking clock gradually became louder as it shifted from a tranquil rhythm to a fast, erratic racket. <em>_Air rushed out from his lungs. He screamed, but only in his head. No sound escaped his lips. A silent blackness ensued._

Kurt opened his eyes. He got up on his feet unsteadily and stepped out of the glass compartment. Bright neon numbers on the screen of a digital calendar greeted him.

20-09-2021

He was back to present, but he felt even more lost than ever. He wasn't so sure where he belonged anymore.

* * *

><p><em>Leaving someone when you love someone<br>Is the hardest thing to do  
>When you love someone as much as I love you<em>

_Oh I don't wanna leave you_  
><em>Baby it tears me up inside<em>  
><em>But I'll never be the one you're needing<em>  
><em>I love you, goodbye...<em>

Kurt brought the scarf close to his face, breathing in the sweet redolence of a winter more than a decade ago. Barely two days had passed since he returned to the present but the apartment had already seemed far emptier than he had remembered. He lay on the double bed, but only on the far left. He had never slept on Blaine's side of the bed; it remained untouched ever since the night he disappeared. He closed his eyes and let himself drift away to a string of images of one particular boy.

A four-year-old tottering across the lawn.

A ten-year-old sitting in a sandpit, lowering his head in hurt and embarrassment.

A fourteen-year-old smiling, knitting, cooking, singing, crying...

He knew he could never stay away from him for too long. It would only be a matter of time.

* * *

><p>"Go away, I don't wanna see your annoying face."<p>

"Baby..."

"Please don't call me that. I don't deserve it."

With one hand tugging the strap of his Marc Jacobs shoulder bag, the boy continued walking briskly, pointedly ignoring his boyfriend who was struggling to keep up with him.

"Kurt, I'm sorry. Can we please talk about this?"

"No. I'm still mad at you."

"Please, darling? I won't waste too much of your time I swear.. just give me ten minutes. I'm really really sorry. Gosh why the hell was I so damn _stupid_? I swear I didn't mean to hurt you – "

The younger boy let out a long, exasperated sigh. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, crossing his arms defiantly in front of his chest.

"Fine." He hissed, shooting a scathing glare at his boyfriend. "But not here, I don't want the entire school to hear me screaming at you."

Kurt strode towards the auditorium with Blaine following close behind him. He flung the swing doors open.

"Okay, Warbler boy. Your time starts now. Ten minutes."

"Kurt, I genuinely, sincerely apologize for the things I said yesterday. I know I'd said a hell lot of awful stuff out of spite. But believe, I don't mean a single word.. I was just in a horrible mood, with all the school assignments and exam stress piling up, plus when you started accusing me of not being supportive and understanding.. well you know what a foul mouth I have when I'm peeved – "

"Oh please. Spare me the torture. I have far more important things to do than to waste my precious time on these lousy excuses."

"No no.. no don't get me wrong, baby. I- I'm not trying to defend myself here. Damn, I really suck at this, don't I? I- I.. urgh..." Blaine sighed, chiding himself for aggravating the situation, which he didn't think would actually be humanly possible given how bad things already were at the moment.

"I do know, and I won't deny, that it was my fault. Entirely." Blaine placed a hand over Kurt's. "I was just being a plain stupid, insensitive bitch. I should have considered your feelings, Kurt. Gosh, you have no idea how much I wanted to kick myself when I saw how hurt and mad you were."

"Blaine. Do you know what was it that made it hurt so bad?" Kurt pulled his hand away and looked at his boyfriend firmly in the eye. "Not when you failed to stand up for me. Not when you made that near-offensive remark about my prom outfit. Not when you said I was 'hopelessly stubborn'. Not even when you called me a 'flamboyant attention-seeker'."

Blaine averted his eyes ashamedly. Kurt blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill over. He took a deep breath and continued, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"It hurt me the most..when I _saw_ the way you looked at me in that outfit. You.. You looked almost disgusted, Blaine." His voice came out as a weak, high-pitched squeak. "The look on your face.. it practically screamed that you couldn't be more embarrassed to go to prom with me.. "

"Baby, I swear I wasn't thinking that. I was just a little... startled by your outfit. Well you have to admit, it did look rather... _theatrical_."

"To put in a less sugar-coated way, you meant _ostentatious_._ Flashy. Grotesque."_

"No I – I don't mean that, exactly. I'm sorry, Kurt. It won't happen again, I promise_._" Blaine reached out and grasped his hand pleadingly. This time, the boy did not withdraw his hand.

"That's the way I am, Blaine. That's me, the real Kurt. Flamboyant, attention-loving, obnoxious Kurt Hummel. And I can't change that about myself. If you can't accept this about me, I guess we should call it quits now." The dull hostility in his voice had given way to a weary sadness.

"No."

"No?"

"No." Blaine repeated firmly. "I know this sounds horribly cliché but Kurt, you mean too much to me. I'll be insane to give you up. I don't ever want to let you go." He leaned over and hugged his boyfriend impulsively. "I promise I'll learn to accept and love _everything_ about you. Please say you'll give me a chance to do so."

He hoped it wasn't a figment of his imagination that Kurt was starting to lean just a little bit closer against his body.

"I'm sorry. Please forgive me, Kurt."

"I'll think about it. Will keep you posted."

Blaine heaved a sigh of relief. He was certain he had seen a flicker of a smile cross the boy's face.

"Okay, your time's up. Got to go for Glee club practice now." Kurt stood up and grabbed his shoulder bag.

"Can I tag along? Pretty please? I'm sure Mr Schue and the others won't mind."

"Alright. But don't expect me to entertain you. I haven't said you're forgiven, remember."

Blaine grinned and gave himself a mental pat on the back. He doubt he would have to wait too long for that.

* * *

><p>"Oh gosh, are you serious about that?"<p>

"Yes, cupcake. I've made up my mind."

"Are you sure your parents will be fine with it?"

"I believe so. Things between me and my mom and dad have improved lately, ever since they started attending those parental counseling sessions a months ago. It'll take a bit of persuasion work on my part but I think they'll understand."

"But Blaine.. you'll have to give up everything you have there – "

"I know. I've thought about it for a while actually. Dalton's great and all, but it just doesn't feel the same without you there with me. I miss you so freaking much, Kurt."

"I'd be over the moon if you transfer here, hon, but it's my duty as a concerned, doting boyfriend to kindly warn you of the situation you'd be getting yourself into. For one, New Directions is nothing like the Warblers, as you can tell from the practice just now. None of the solemness and formality. No council, no gavel; everyone's here got an equal say regardless of seniority or how well you sing. Plus, there's a whole lot of estrogen to deal with. Which translates into a crazy dose of bitch-fits, diva-offs, relationship pentagons and senseless insane bickering."

"I'm prepared to bid a grand farewell to my sanity." Blaine chuckled as he linked arms with his boyfriend. "You guys may be hysterical sometimes but I've seen how close you all are to one another, and how much fun you have together. I would love to join this big family."

"Even if it means getting a slushee facial every now and then? We don't have the same zero-tolerance-for-bullying policy here at Mckinley, you know."

"I'm cool. Anyway, there's the bully-whips to keep things in check, right? I feel safe already."

"Well.. knowing Santana, they'll probably be gone after prom's over. Let's just say we can't exactly depend on them, though i've to admit that Karofsky's been pretty civil to me these days. But school bullies aide, let's not forget the fact that we've got a mentally and emotionally imbalanced cheerios coach to deal with. The things she says and does – urgh believe me, it's like she devotes her entire life to making the glee kids miserable."

"The tracksuit lady we met at the coffee house? She does have a terrifying scowl and a nasty air of borderline insanity, but yes, I think I can live with that."

"And you can live with giving up solos and the glorious spotlight on stage to the ever-so-obnoxious-yet-so-annoyingly-talented Rachel Berry?" Kurt raised a brow at the Warblers' lead vocalist.

"Yes my sweet porcelain." Blaine grinned goofily as Kurt punched his arm in mock irritation. "Yes. Because my transfer would mean that I'd get to see you every single day and not only on weekends and the miserably few weekday nights. It'd mean that I'd be able to walk down the hallways with you hand in hand, share homemade low-calorie meals with you during lunch-breaks, sing with you at glee practice, and.." His voice dropped to a low, teasing whisper as he causally slipped his hand down to Kurt's ass. "And.. maybe even sneak in an _orgasm_ or two between classes."

"Blaaaaine!" Kurt gasped as he swat the hand away. He had turned at least three shades redder. He was sure that Blaine was doing this on purpose; Blaine knew exactly how ridiculously embarrassed Kurt would be every time he mentioned anything even remotely sexual.

"What?" The curly-haired teenager blinked innocently at the blushing boy. "And anyway, so yes, all these little things that I'll get to do here at Mckinley makes a school transfer very much worthwhile, don't you think?"

"Right. Just don't come complaining to me when you realize how much you miss your cute preppy Dalton blazer. And what a hassle it is to have to plan decent outfits everyday. Not everyone's as fashion savvy as Kurt Hummel, you know."

"Right. " Blaine replied, trying his best to keep a straight face and not burst into giggles. "I know you'll be more than happy to help me with it. Or maybe it'll be easier if I buy a duplicate of everything you've got. Then we can go to school with adorable coordinated outfits –"

"You're hopelessly disgusting, Blaine Warbler."

"Too bad for you, sweet porcelain. I accept your flaws and you'll have to live with mine."

Kurt smiled as his boyfriend wrapped an arm around his waist and sneaked a quick delicious kiss on his lips. He was certainly looking forward to their study session at his place later.

* * *

><p>Not too far behind them, a man in a hooded sweater watched the duo make their way towards the school gate. It felt strange and slightly disturbing at first, witnessing the interactions between the young couple. But he decided that it probably shouldn't count as an intrusive act if one of the people he's watching right now was none other than his teenage self. It was like watching an old video footage of his younger days, he figured. After all these years, he had almost forgotten these little events of their high school years – how Blaine used to wait for him after class every Tuesday when he was still schooling at Dalton, the occasional quarrels and tantrums, the duets they shared during glee club practice, and of course, the not-so-infrequent sneaky makeout sessions in the auditorium...<p>

_Why did you leave? Where did you go? I miss you so much, Blaine. _

He had to stay in the past for a while longer, for now it had become the only place where Blaine existed. And there were still so many unresolved answers to be sought; there was simply no way he could return home now.

The man sighed in resignation and headed towards the blue door.

* * *

><p><em>Reviewscomments/suggestions are greatly appreciated thanks!:)_


	10. Chapter 10: Once upon a dream

Hello guys! Here's another short little chapter:) Enjoy!

* * *

><p>It was an elegant square of space. On the far left was a magnificent built-in wardrobe, and next to it stood a Victorian ivory dressing table on which tubes and jars of moisturizing products were lined in straight neat rows. At the other end, there lay a small cream colored couch with gold trimmings and matching cushions. A dual layer of gauzy and richly textured curtains cascaded down the full-length windows. Positioned in the middle was a classic canopy bed gracefully enswathed in diaphanous drapes and covered in maroon-and-cream matte satin sheets.<p>

A slim figure lay comfortably beneath the luxurious fabrics, his dark curls forming a stark contrast against the cream-colored pillows. He lay on his side, body facing the left. One hand was tucked under his face while the other was sprawled carelessly over the sheets. His long dark lashes fanned out beautifully on his cheeks and his lips were curved in a small, contented smile.

A man sat on the edge of the bed, his head half-turned towards the sleeping figure. He sat stiffly on the far left, keeping a distance between them. Any inch closer and he would be able to smell the tangy scent of his shampoo and feel the comforting warmth of his body. He couldn't risk moving closer, for he needed to repel the flood of vivid images that were threatening to shred every last bit of his sanity. He mustn't let them haunt him – those memories of them snuggled tightly in each others' arms, tangled beneath the sheets and lost in the delicious burning touch of flushed naked skin against the cool satin sheets.

He blinked away his tears and shifted his gaze away from the bed. He shouldn't be here, definitely not back in their apartment with Blaine lying there right next to him. The image had deceptively created far too much of a semblance of normality; it almost drew him to believe that Blaine had never left. With every moment he spent in the past, every episode he revisited, the path back to the present was becoming more convoluted. Kurt sighed and got off the bed, casting one more look at the sleeping man with the beautifully peaceful expression on his face.

"Miss you little souffl_é."_

It was a mumble, sudden and unexpected yet so faint and muffled that it almost went unnoticed. Kurt sat down on the bed, leaning slightly towards the man lying under the covers. Blaine's eyes were still tightly shut.

"Miss your hands. 'Cause they're warm. And soft. And smooth. And they smell nice."

Kurt remembered that Blaine had a tendency to talk in his sleep, and his sleep-talking would become more pronounced every time he was feeling stressed or upset. He recalled that this was the night that Kurt had to leave the country to attend an overseas conference; it was the very first time that Blaine had spent the night alone in their new apartment.

"Miss your soft brown hair that gets into my eyes every time I hug you from behind."

Blaine rolled slightly over to the left side of the bed such that his right forearm was now beneath his chest. Each rise and fall of the breath appeared to be amplified.

"Miss the sound your glass bottles of creams make when you fiddle with them every night."

He stretched his left arm. It lay mere centimeters away from Kurt's lap.

"Miss the smell of that moisturizer you use on alternate Sunday nights. I mean the lavender one. Not the weird one that smells of old mushroom.

His head had shifted towards the other pillow. The scent of his shampoo grew stronger.

"I think I miss you humming in bed too. Though I know I complain all the time about it being a major cause of insomnia."

Blaine smiled against the pillow as Kurt reached out instinctively to stroke his hair.

"Miss your lips. And your silky smooth sweet body. And your tingling touch. And the amazing sounds you make when I – "

A palm was placed lightly on Blaine's lips, effectively cutting off the words that had tumbled out of his mouth. Seconds ticked by in silence. Kurt brushed his thumb tenderly across those full, soft lips and allowed himself, for a moment, to be swept away by the all-so-familiar sensation.

"Mmmm..You have Kurt's fingers. Soft and delicious."

Kurt tried to pull his hand away from the sleeping man's face but it was as if his fingers had developed a life on their own. They lingered on Blaine's forehead and traced the contours of his nose and cheekbones before finally landing on the rough patch of stubble on his chin.

"You feel and smell too much like Kurt Hummel. Is that you, baby?"

"No."

"Yes you are. You touch me exactly the same way Kurt does. I can recognize it anywhere, darling. You're Kurt, I'm sure."

"You're dreaming, Blaine."

"Oh." Blaine shifted his body further to the left and before Kurt could react, Blaine's arm had already swung over his thigh. "Yeah I guess. You're away and won't be back for another two nights at least, how tragic. Oh but at least we met in my dream so that's actually not too bad..."

The lyrics of a song played soundlessly in Kurt's mind.

_I know you, I met you once upon in a dream..._

"I like this dream, Kurt. You feel so real..._"_

_Was all that we had nothing but a dream?_

Kurt lifted the hand away from his lap.

"Please baby, don't leave yet.."

_It's **you** who have left me, Blaine._

"Do you have to go away so soon? I'll miss you."

_I have my reasons. Did you?_

His heart bled with agony and bitter resentment. He swung his legs off the bed.


	11. Chapter 11: Gone

Hi all! Here's the next chapter. Hope you like it!:)

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 11: Gone<span>

"Leave him alone."

"Fuck off."

"Not unless you back off, big boy."

It was a determined, steady voice which revealed not a trace of fear or apprehension. The man stood firmly on the ground, glaring steely at the hulking figure who towered almost two heads over him.

"I said, leave him alone."

"Don't push your luck, midget. 'Tis none of your fucking business." The six-foot-five man bent down to meet those unblinking hazel eyes. His lips curved into an ugly sneer as he took a threatening step forward. He was an enormous monstrosity of a man – a cruel hollow shell capable of careless destruction and unrestrained violence. His voice dripped with contemptuous hostility; it was a voice that warned of terrible consequences.

"Now, here's one last civilized message for you before we punch your brains out. Get. The. Fucking. Hell. Out. Of. Here. "

_Leave, Blaine. Leave._

The moon cast a pale, ghostly glow over the dark alley. A small skeletal teenager lay crouching on the ground, surrounded by four well-built, muscular men. His longish platinum blonde hair glistened against his ashen washed-out face, appearing almost silvery-white under the moonlight. The translucent canvas of his skin was painted with grotesque patches of deep purple and black. He was reduced to a lifeless specter, a mere ghost of a boy. A sharp, single line of bright red streaked across his bloodless lower lip. His face twisted in an expression of raw, primal pain. His ash-gray eyes screamed in terror.

"He's only a young boy. Why won't you let him off!"

"Not too young to be fucking my brother, apparently. A _freak_, that's what he is. And this is exactly what he deserves."

"No. He isn't. _You_ are." The voice had risen to a fierce, deep growl. Each syllable was spat out with pure aggression and unmasked disgust. "What you are doing now is deplorable and serves only to reflect your cowardice and ignorance."

_Stop talking, Blaine. Please stop._

"How _dare_ you, you fucking son-of-a-bitch – "

"I've called the cops, by the way. Now one little piece of advice – you and your friends better let the poor boy off and scoot away like the sad pathetic cowards you are."

"No one messes with us, dwarf boy. I repeat, no one." A pair of strong muscled arms gripped his shoulders. A flash of uneasiness flickered across his face, but he remained unmoving. He titled his chin up and stared defiantly at his opponent. A pair of narrow dark brown eyes bore into his hazel ones.

_Run, Blaine, run. NOW._

It happened all too quickly. A swift punch in the face, a hard kick in the groin. A slam on the jaw, and another one on the stomach. Knees sank to the ground. More kicks and punches rained on the slender back.

The struggles and cries for help were futile. The blows only grew in intensity.

"Weren't you being an arrogant, stubborn little fighter just a moment ago huh? Get up! Stand up like a real man! Why don't you get up on your feet and fight us now? Who's the sad, pathetic one now, eh?"

A large hand grabbed a fistful of dark curls and lifted his head roughly. Blaine met his eyes, his stare vehement and unyielding amidst the searing pain.

"_You_ are. Nothing but a coward. You. Disgust. Me." Blaine spat with every last ounce of energy left in his body. An overpowering metallic taste filled his mouth.

Without another word, the slim figure was hurled against the wall with an immense brute force. A sickening sound pierced the night air as his head hit the concrete. A new splash of colour streaked down the graffittied walls – a startlingly bright crimson.

Round the corner, no more than ten feet away, a man stood rooted to the ground. His facial features were contorted in desperation and helpless horror. His mouth hung open in a soundless scream.

The curly-haired man slumped against the wall. With trembling fingers, he picked up the broken watch that had fallen to the ground during the struggle earlier. He brushed a thumb over the cracked glass and pressed a finger against the familiar word engraved on the metal.

_Courage._

It had been reduced to a mere shadow of a shattered past. It was all starting to ebb away. For both of them.

* * *

><p><em>The world was spinning. He felt his head throb painfully. The sound of a ticking clock gradually became louder as it shifted from a tranquil rhythm to a fast, almost erratic racket.<em>

_Air rushed out from his lungs. He screamed, but only in his head. No sound escaped his lips. A silent blackness ensued._

* * *

><p>"What in Gaga's name was that, Artie! Why did you bring me back here! And why the fucking hell did you stop me from moving! Did you even see how he looked? He was so terribly beaten up and there I was, not able to do <em>anything<em> to save him except to desperately attempt to send brain signals to urge him to run away? Blaine could _die, _Artie, and all I could do was to stand frozen a few metres away watching my boyfriend writhe in pain? Watching blood gush out from the back of his head? Watching him slip into unconsciousness? Watching him lying there, helpless and vulnerable and alone? And what happened to Blaine in the end? Did someone find him in the alley? Was he sent to the hospital in time? Oh my Gaga please tell me he didn't die! You.. If you had allowed me to help him this wouldn't have happened!"

"Woah.. calm down, Kurt – "

"Calm down? After all that I've witnessed, standing in the background as an utterly useless, unhelpful, passive bystander, you expect me to _calm down_? Not knowing what happened to my boyfriend after he was brutally attacked and bleeding profusely, you expect me to _calm down_? Do you have any idea how this tears me apart, Mr ever-so-cool-headed scientist? Being physically present, watching everything unreel before your very eyes, waiting fearfully for what is to come, knowing exactly what tragic events would follow but not being the least bit able to warn him in any way possible? Can you ever imagine this psychological torment of frustration and guilt and soul-splitting agony? No, you can't. And so, please, you have no fucking right to tell me to calm down!"

The words shot out of his mouth, shrill and harsh and rapid. His throat felt constricted with a sharp, scraping pain. He glared irately at the bespectacled man in the white lab coat. His body shook with a boiling caudron of rage, panic, and fear.

"Please, Kurt. Why don't you stop pacing around the lab and take a seat here. I'll try to explain it all to you and hopefully you'll understand -"

"Right. Please do. I'm positively_ itching_ to know what mighty force possessed you to do what you did. Which I must add, was completely ridiculous and insane and un-understandable and – "

"Hummel, you wouldn't have been able to help anyway, even if I did not stop you from running towards Blaine. Those are four strong thugs we are talking about. "

"I could distract them or something. Or call the cops."

"Pointless. Blaine had already did. But there was no way the cops could have reached there that quickly. And you wouldn't be able to change the outcome, Kurt. You would only get hurt if I didn't freeze you there on the spot. And God knows what would become of you.. "

"But there must be something I could have done to help him – "

" You can't change the eventual outcomes of events of the past, my friend. Things that are meant to happen would happen regardless of any attempts to alter the outcomes. Not only would such interventions fail to change the course of events, there might even be disastrous consequences involved. I told you that right from the start."

"Why did you bring me back?"

"Midnight. The machine was programmed to allow you to time-travel only up to the day before Blaine disappeared. You _have_ to return to the present by midnight. There was no other option."

"Can't we reprogramme it now? I need to know... I- I can't survive a single moment without knowing whether he's okay, whether he's safe and sound, whether he's still alive..." Kurt's voice escaped his throat as a choked, pained sob. He buried his face in his palm but it failed to muffled the sound. His cries echoed through the enormous lab.

"I'm sorry.. I can't do that right now, Kurt. I'm really sorry. It'll take at least another three months to re-programme it." Artie placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Is- Is there any way to find out where Blaine is right now? Do you know what happened to him after that?"

"To say the truth, I have no idea but– "

"Then what am I going to do now, Artie? Please, please tell me what I should do. I've tried all ways and means to contact Blaine and his family over the past three years but there was not a single tiniest bit of news..."

"Wait, let me finish my sentence, Kurt. Listen, this may be a piece of good news for us - I received a mysterious email a while ago when you were still back there in year 2018. It was a really vague message but I think there's hope that it may lead us to where Blaine is. Now, give me a sec..."

Artie tapped a couple of keys on his keyboard and a message appeared on the screen.

**_To: ArtielovesBrit_**

**_From: Charles-Trentson_**

**_Date: 21-09-2021_**

**_Time: 21:39_**

_Dear Sir,_

_I apologize for this abrupt email. I am aware that you have allowed a friend to travel back to the past. I'm not too sure what he seeks but I think I may have an answer to what he is searching for. It's all too complicated to explain over an email. If it is not too inconvenient for you, please meet me at Greenwood Hospital, Boston, as soon as possible. You may refer to the email attachment for the detailed address. _

_I believe I'll be able to be of some help. Hope to see you soon. _

_Charles._


	12. Chapter 12: Baby It Tears Me Up Inside

_Hi guys thanks once again for the encouraging comments and story favourites/alerts; you have no idea how much it means to me:)  
>Anyway, here's chapter 12. The cliffhanger in the previous chapter would be addressed only in chapter 13 but it shouldn't be too difficult to guess I think;)<em>

_Song: I Love You, Goodbye (by Celine Dion)_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 12: Baby It Tears Me Up Inside<span>

_25th September, 2018.  
><em>_10:20 AM._

"When?"

"As soon as possible. Preferably tonight, after we have gone through a couple more rounds of CT scans."

"Can't we wait for a few more days? I-I.. I have some things that I'll like to settle first.."

"I'm afraid not. This should be done without any further delay. Time is running out."

"Is there really no other option?"

"This is the best option, I believe."

"But..you mentioned earlier that there are significant risks involved.."

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Surgery is never 100% safe, especially so for brain surgeries. But I would still advise you to undergo it, Mr Anderson. We've cleaned your wounds and stopped the external bleeding but your brain scans revealed that there are multiple blood-cots in your occipital and temporal cortex. If we don't do anything about them, your eyesight would soon deteriorate and you would eventually lose your sight altogether. Moreover, the blood-cots will obstruct blood flow to these brain regions, which will potentially lead to severe brain damage."

The doctor peered down at the patient through his rimless glasses. "To be very honest here, I can't promise you that the surgery would be successful. As a doctor, I can only offer you advice based on my medical expertise, lay out the options and explain the potential risks and outcomes. The final decision ultimately lies with you, the patient." He placed a sheet of document on the bedside table. "I'll leave you some time to make a decision, Mr Anderson. If you decide to undergo the surgery, please sign on this paper. I'll drop by here again in an hour's time."

The curly-haired man nodded numbly. He watched the door close with a soft click. Footsteps echoed down the hospital hallway, crisp and clear at first but slowly fading away to an empty nothingness.

It was all still and quiet once more.

* * *

><p><em>Hey baby, <em>_I'm at Melbridge Hospital now, but please don't panic - _

Blaine sat on the bed, propping his legs close against his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees. He squinted at the half-typed message displayed on the screen of his smart phone. _Please don't panic? _That's as impossible as expecting Kurt to believe that Rachel Berry has better fashion sense than Alexander Mcqueen. He sighed and deleted the message as his mind drifted off to a memory of a particular day seven years ago in a high school choir room. It was the first duet he had sung with Kurt as a new Glee Club member at Mckinley High.

_Wish I could be the one  
>The one who could give you love<br>The kind of love you really need  
>Wish I could say to you<br>That I'll always stay with you  
>But baby that's not me...<em>

He was aware of the odds. Of course, it was possible that he would wake up in the morning, and everything would return to normal as if the ordeal had never existed. But there was a greater probability of things going in the other direction. How long it would take, no one knew for sure. It might be a day, a week, a month or even a year.

Or maybe, never.

He knew without a doubt that Kurt Hummel would wait for him. That silly man would stay by his bedside day and night. He would turn down all after-work appointments and shopping dates just so to spend every moment of his free time with him. He would bring fresh flowers and music cds to lighten the heavy gloominess of the room. He would cup his hand in his and tell him anything and everything, from how his day at work had been to the newest fashion trends of the season, talking as if he were engaging in a conversation with a passively listening Blaine instead of a man who was lying unconscious on a hospital bed. That beautiful voice would be the only sound reverberating in the silent ward. It would be a voice brimming with forced enthusiasm, a bright cheery tinkling voice that masked an ocean of pain and worry. However, occasionally, that voice may rise in agitation and frustration, or snap broken in despair. Tears would break free and fall like tiny precious pearls, creating small circles on the sheets and the sleeve of his hospital gown. Yet, the man lying on the bed would not utter a single word, nor would he move a muscle. He would not be able to hold the broken man in his arms and brush away his tears. He would not hear Kurt begging him to wake up and even if he did, there would be no response to any of his pleas.

_You need someone willing to give their heart and soul to you  
>Promise you forever, baby that's something I can't do<br>Oh I could say that I'll be all you need  
>But that would be a lie<br>I know I'd only hurt you  
>I know I'd only make you cry<br>I'm not the one you're needing  
>I love you, goodbye...<br>_

He would only make Kurt feel worse, not better. If the surgery failed, he would be nothing more but a burden, a heavy useless mass of bones and tissues pulling Kurt down to the depths of a dark bottomless abyss. He knew Kurt would never be the one to let go and so he had to do it. He shouldn't tie him down; he mustn't deny him of a fresh new chance to start anew. It would be selfish of him to ruin Kurt's chance of happiness with someone else, someone who would actually be there for him in a way that he could not.

_I hope someday you can  
>Find some way to understand<br>__I'm only doing this for you  
>I don't really wanna go<br>But deep in my heart I know this is the kindest thing to do  
>You'll find someone who'll be the one that I could never be<br>Who'll give you something better  
>Than the love you'll find with me...<em>

It was agonizing – the thought of his sweet, charming angel loving another man. But he had to do this. It was the best option.

_Oh I could say that I'll be all you need  
>But that would be a crime<br>I know I'd only hurt you  
>I know I'd only make you cry<br>I'm not the one you're needing  
>I love you, goodbye...<em>

Blaine glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. 10_:50 AM_, it read. He reached for his phone and signed in to his email account.

_**To: Kurthummel  
><strong>**From: BlaineAnderson-Warbler  
><strong>**Date: 25-09-18  
><strong>**Time: 10:52**_

_Dear Kurt,_

_You must be wondering where I have been, but please don't worry about me, I'm okay._  
><em>I left, because I don't think I can be with you anymore. I don't love you the way I did before. And so it's better for both of us to let go now. I'm sorry.<em>  
><em>I don't expect your forgiveness. But please forget me, Kurt.<em>

_Goodbye,_  
><em>Blaine Anderson.<em>

He hesitated for a minute, his finger placed lightly over the 'send' button. He would tell Kurt that this was all but a childish practical joke should he regain consciousness from the operation the next morning. But if morning never came for him, this would be the end for them. Kurt would remember Blaine Anderson as nothing more than a heartless jerk whom he had wasted nearly a decade of his youth on; he would probably hate him forever.

But at least, Kurt Hummel would be a free man.

_Leaving someone when you love someone  
>Is the hardest thing to do<br>When you love someone as much as I love you_

_Oh I don't wanna leave you_  
><em>Baby it tears me up inside<em>  
><em>But I'll never be the one you're needing<em>  
><em>I love you, goodbye...<em>

It hurt more than any punch or kick. It was a piercing pain more intolerable than anything he had experienced last night. He pressed the 'send' button and switched off his phone.

_Baby, its never gonna work out  
>I love you, goodbye...<em>


	13. Chapter 13: Answers

Chapter 13: Answers

_22 September, 2021  
>1245 PM<em>

"Crap, he's still not replying my emails."

"I don't believe this are you freaking serious? Are you sure his email didn't get lost somewhere in your inbox?" Kurt grabbed Artie's phone and scrolled down the list of messages. He grunted in frustration and tossed the phone back to Artie, a scowl spreading across his face. "I hate this fellow already. Why the hell is he torturing us like that!"

"Try calling him?" A tall pretty blonde chimed in helpfully.

"Can't, honey," replied Artie as he typed another email message. "He didn't leave down his contact number."

"I told you we should have brought Lord Tubbington (III) along with us, Artie-cutie. He would have been able to sniff the guy out. I swear he's a puppy in his past life. Or a dog disguised as a cat."

"Brit baby, pets are not allowed in hospitals."

"We could have put him in a little carrier. Lord Tubby loves to be outdoors. I'm sad thinking about how dull he must be feeling right now. Mrs Murdley won't talk to him as much as I do and she won't let him watch all his favorite Disney shows because she doesn't have Disney channel and I bet she won't bother to read him a bedtime story and pet him to sleep and she probably will forget that he needs to be fed seven times a day– "

"Brittany! Can you please shut the hell up and grant me some peace for one short moment? We've been tolerating your non-stop rattling about Tubbington the entire plane journey. Now is really not the time to discuss about your ridiculous cat."

"Hey, _hey_. Dude, I understand that you are upset and frustrated right now but this is definitely no way to talk to the lady." Artie said warningly as he wrapped a protective arm tightly around his wife's waist. "I hereby demand that you apologize to her, Hummel. Don't you dare vent your frustrations on my sweet Brit."

He glared angrily at the man who had been pacing the hospital lobby for the past fifteen minutes. Kurt sighed in exasperation and took a deep breath.

"Alright. I'm really sorry, Brittany. I shouldn't have been so harsh with you."

"It's okay, Kurt. I understand how dreadful you're feeling right now. There was once that Lord Tubby got lost and I thought he was eaten by my neighbor's bulldog and can you believe it, I was so worried that I screamed at anyone who spoke to me – "

"Okay baby, I think that's enough for now. How about you be a dear and and wait for us at that nice seating area over there? There are loads of magazines to keep you entertained while Kurt and I try to settle this mess here. You can read aloud to the baby; I'm sure she will love it." Artie suggested as he steered his wife in the other direction. He turned to his friend and added slightly sheepishly, "I think it's the pregnancy that's making her so articulate. She was never much of a talkative girl, you know."

"Right. Are you sure we got the address correct, Artie? He should be here by now."

"Hmm, I'm pretty sure this is the right place. There should be only one Greenwood Hospital in Boston, if I didn't remember wrongly."

"I think we should send him another email."

"Kurt, I've sent him _five_ emails since we got here. And not a single reply. His phone's battery is probably dead or something. Anyway it has only been fifteen minutes so don't fret too much. Let's just wait for him to contact us, alright?"

"I say we should double-check the address again. Or.. hey.. oh my Gaga, why were we so damn stupid? Artie! Maybe, very possibly, Blaine's a patient here right? Let's ask – "

"Excuse me, are you two visitors of Mr Blaine Anderson?"

A petite Asian woman with black shoulder-length length called out from the receptionist counter behind them. The two men spun around in surprise.

"Why, yes! Is he a patient here?"

"Yes he is. Ward 64. Sixteenth floor, turn left, last room at the end of the hallway. A friend of his is already – "

"Oh gosh, thanks!"

Without another word, the two men sprinted towards the elevator.

* * *

><p>"What are you waiting for? Open the door, Kurt."<p>

"I- I.. maybe we should leave..."

"Dude, are you out of your freaking mind? Do you really need me to remind you that you've been waiting for this day for three long years?" The scientist cast a look of disbelief at his friend who stood outside the ward, staring fixedly into the room through a little glass window.

"I don't think I'm needed here, Artie."

"Wha – What did you see in there? Come on, let me take a look – Oh.."

It was a spacious, comfortable first-class ward, not at all the gray gloomy room one would have expected. Rays of the glorious afternoon sun poured through the opened windows, casting the place in a warm, welcoming light. The walls were tastefully covered with pastel green-and-white striped wallpaper, and a painting of a cornfield hung on the wall, above a small couch. A vase of cheery sunflowers sat on the bedside table.

A man was sitting on an armchair, his back facing the door. He had fallen asleep with his head resting on the patient's chest. The patient's left hand was clasped tightly between his palms.

"Hey but that doesn't mean anything. Don't read too much into it, alright? Come on, let's go in," Artie reassured as he pushed the door open in one swift movement before his friend could protest. He placed a firm grip on Kurt's shoulders and nudged him forward encouragingly. "Don't just stand there. Go on, Kurt, they're both waiting for us."

Hesitantly, Kurt made his way towards the bed. He felt oddly detached as he took in the sight of the numerous machines and tubes that were connected to the patient's body. He took a few more steps forward and found himself at the edge of the bed, on the left of the man sitting in the armchair. He fastened his eyes on the patient lying motionlessly on the pristine white sheets.

_Who are you, my dear._

Above the headboard was a card tacked to the wall. A string of numbers were printed on the card – the patient's ID. Beneath the numbers, bold capital letters spelt out a name.

**BLAINE ANDERSON.**

It was him, unmistakably, but he was hardly recognizable. This was a man reduced to a blank, empty being – a face drained of color and emotion, a body depleted of vitality. His pale, frail frame was stripped bare of any last sparkle of life, a sad contrast to the cheery atmosphere of the hospital room.

Kurt choked back a sob as he weaved his fingers into Blaine's hair. The once lively mass of unruly curls had been cut short; it now rested flatly on his scalp. He placed a feather-light touch on Blaine's cheek and was startled by how easily he could feel the bone jutting out beneath the thin layer of flesh. Unwittingly, he tore his hand away from the hollowed face, for Blaine had felt so fragile that it seemed as though he would literally crumble at the slightest touch.

"_Ahem_, excuse me." Artie stood on the right of the armchair, one hand tapping the shoulder of the sleeping man. The man shifted a little in his seat and and lifted his head. "We're sorry to stir you from your sleep, but may I assume that you're the one who sent me the email? Charles Trentson?"

Kurt was stung by a sharp bite of jealousy as he stared at the hands that were entwined tightly around Blaine's frail fingers.

"Hey. Oh god I'm so sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Hi, I'm Charles. Nice to meet you, Artie. The man then turned his head to the left, his eyes fixed on the man standing next to him. "Hi.. Kurt."

Kurt drew a sharp intake of breath. Words were caught in his throat as his brain attempted to make sense of the visual image.

"I – You – We've met before."

They reminded Kurt of velvet midwinter skies– as gray as cement yet at the same time as blue as the soft azure surface of the southern sea. A brief sparkle danced in those bluish steel-gray eyes.

"Indeed we have." The man held his gaze firmly as he stood up from his seat. "Good to see you again, Kurt."

"You know him?" Artie asked his friend incredulously, looking from one man to the other in confusion.

"Y-Yeah.. Kind of.. But- I-".

"We met a couple of years ago." Charles interjected. His eyes twinkled with good-natured amusement as a small knowing smile played on his lips.

"Many years ago, actually. But.. I don't get it. How did you figure out who I am? I don't remember us introducing ourselves back then." A flood of questions sped through his mind. "And how did you find out about Blaine? How are you related to him? Did you know what happened to him? H-How.." Kurt spluttered in surprise, his eyes wide with bewilderment. His throat tightened with a twisted, constricting choke, and the simplicity of the natural task of breathing had suddenly transformed into an impossible challenge.

"And how in the world did you know about our identities? How did you even manage to get hold of my email address? What exactly do you know?" inquired Artie impatiently as he regarded the man with wary eyes. He couldn't help but feel a chill of uneasiness. This mysterious stranger had known way too much about them.

"I understand that this is all too bizarre for both of you and it's my fault for not offering a clearer explanation in my email." Charles replied apologetically, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the fair-skinned, well-dressed gentleman whose blue-green eyes were brimming with swirls of concern, doubt, confusion, pain, and relief all combined in one.

"I was there in the alley."The voice continued tentatively with a soft, gentle calmness. "But I was too late. He was already unconscious when I got there. I drove him to the hospital...Not this hospital, of course. I brought him to the one where I was working at."

Artie raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You're a doctor?"

"A neurologist, to be exact." Charles replied, casting a quick sidelong look at the bespectacled scientist.

"How's his condition? Has he not woken up.. since then?"

"He did regain consciousness, Kurt. But only for a day. That was before the surgery." The man shifted his blue-gray gaze to the patient and lightly brushed a hand over the short dark hair. "And he.. he hasn't been awake since." His calm steady voice was momentarily broken by a almost imperceptible tinge of guilt. A fleeting expression of pain flickered in his eyes, and then it was gone, replaced instantly by a cool detachment.

"Did Blaine tell you about me?" Kurt found an inexplicable possessiveness stirring within him. He placed a hand on Blaine's outstretched one and wrapped his fingers over it tightly.

"No. We barely exchanged more words than what was necessary. He didn't seem to remember me at all." The last sentence emerged as a low, choked whisper; a pained yet tender utterance. The vacant beauty of those pool of gray and blue were overwhelmed once again by a wave of anguish which vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I found out about his relationship with you on my own. I saw both of you together." There was not a slightest twinge in his tone, not the least bit of an emotion. It held nothing but a vast stretch of calm emptiness - an infinite plain as blank and boundless as the darkened late-evening sky.

"You saw us together? But that must have been a long time ago.. I haven't seen him since..since we broke up three years ago."

"It really hasn't been that many years since I saw you both. Kurt, you remember the first time we met, don't you?" Charles spoke patiently with a slow softness. "At the funfair; 18th June, 2008. Then two months after that, at the cybercafe?"

Kurt nodded meekly. He wasn't sure what else was expected of him. The sharp precision of Charles's memory astounded him.

"So, how have I changed since then? Do I look any different?"

"Wha-?"

"Take a good look at me, Kurt. Do I look any different from the last time you saw me?" Charles repeated. His soft rustling voice was now laced with an obvious tinge of authoritativeness. He took an unexpected step towards Kurt, drowning him in the steely stare of his blue-gray eyes.

Kurt studied the man before him in passive confusion. His hair was a beautiful shade of ash-brown which complemented the grayness of his eyes. It was slicked back neatly, revealing a high forehead. A pair of rimless spectacles rested firmly on his nose bridge.

The ebony-black suit and tailored pants looked oddly familiar. A brown briefcase was nestled in the armchair.

"I don't understand. You.. you look the same. _Exactly _the same, in fact. How the hell is that even possible? It's been so long.. thirteen years.."

"You look like an exact replica of yourself back in 2008 too. Haven't aged at all, have you?" Charles cocked his head to the left, an amused smile spreading over his well-chiseled face.

"OH. MY. HOLY..." The scientist who had been silently watching the exchange between the two men now gasped in amazement as a complete realization hit him. "You.. you are – " he stared wide-eyed at the man, gaping at him in shocked disbelief.

Charles nodded. "Yup, excellent guess, Artie." His eyes flickered momentarily to the clock hanging on the wall before them, before shifting back to envelop the blue-green pools that stared straight back at him with an inkling of understanding bubbling to the surface.

"I'm a time-traveler too."

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><p><em>Hope you guys enjoyed reading this. And of course, I'm not gonna let Blaine die; he's way too awesome:) Definitely more klaine in later chapters!<em>


	14. Chapter 14: Future's Past

**Chapter 14: Future's Past**

_A great big thank-you hug to all those who have left me a review/comment! You lovely words have been a huge encouragement and have truly made me a very happy girl. Extra hugs to JustCourage and Wildcats15 who have been so supportive of this fic all this while:)_

_Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

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><p>" For the purpose of medical research?"<p>

"Yes. Medical research."

Kurt wondered if it was his imagination that those blue-gray eyes had turned a slightly darker, richer shade than he had remembered.

"I see. What kind of research?"

"Neurology. An investigation of early brain surgery procedures. Early craniotomies, lobotomies et cetera."

"I see. Sounds interesting," Kurt managed with a strained smile. He broke the gaze and stared down at his hands. Seconds later, he looked up to see the other man with his eyes still fixed intently upon him. There was not a trace of hostility in those interesting eyes but the gentle calmness had definitely disappeared.

The room was quiet except for the rhythmic, monotonous beeping of the hospital equipment and the soft ticking of the clock. It was a dark and brooding silence, like the conglomeration of heavy rainclouds that signal an impending thunderstorm. One man sat in the plush armchair, legs crossed and hands placed daintily in his lap. His back was held in a rigid upright posture and his chin was tilted slightly forward in an almost defiant fashion. Blue-green eyes smouldered with an inscrutable expression. The other man was seated on the edge of the hospital bed with shoulders slouching a little, reflecting perhaps a passivity, casual indifference or a weary resignation. The hand that had gently brushed against the patient's cheek a moment ago was now resting on the white bedsheets. The intense staring between the two men had not gone noticed. Well aware of his own intrusive presence in this awkward wordless exchange, Artie had managed a quick mumble about his wife and left the hospital ward hastily. He was pretty sure that the conversation between these two would hardly be on their shared experience of the wonders of time-travel.

"How did you manage to travel back in time? Artie mentioned that time-travelling is an extremely new and protected piece of technology that is available exclusively to a very small scientific community." Kurt decided that the silence was getting far too uncomfortable. They needed to start talking. Properly. And a friendly little chat about time-traveling seemed like a good way to start a proper conversation rolling.

"Well actually, my parents were one of those scientists who pioneered the research in time-traveling," Charles replied with a gentle smile.

Kurt flushed sheepishly and chided himself silently in his head. _That was a stupid question, Kurt Hummel. Now you've made things more awkward. And embarrassed yourself in the process. Wonderful. _

"Oh. Wow. That's cool." _Quick, think of something intelligent to say so you will look less like an idiot._

He was about to ask a casual question about neurology when Charles cleared his throat and shifted slightly forward. Looking straight into Kurt's eyes, he spoke levelly.

"I met you in 2024."

Abruptly, a head jerked up in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

Charles chuckled lightly, realizing at once how strange his words must have sounded. Rephrasing his earlier statement, he tried to explain the complicated situation to the bewildered man. "Sorry, what I meant to say is that.. I'll be meeting you in three years time, in 2024. This – year 2021 – belongs to a part of my past. I'm from the future, Kurt. Time-traveled on 20th April, 2024." He observed Kurt's reaction, watching a swift transition from a blank look confusion to widened blue-green eyes as realization sank in. "And about a month before that, on the 28th of March, 2024, we met for the first time but under a circumstance that is entirely dissimilar to the situation we are in right now. That was why I could recognize you when we met again in 2008 – in your past and mine. And it was then I realized that you were a time-traveler too. You couldn't have possibly looked like you haven't aged a bit between 2008 and 2024 if you weren't, could you?" He paused and sighed at the absurd complexity of the situation. "Am I making any sense here?"

Kurt gave a weak, unconvincing nod as he struggled to assimilate the mind-boggling new knowledge.

"So what you are saying is that..essentially.. you're from the future, and this.." He gestured towards his surroundings. "... is considered your past?"

"Absolutely right. Though now that I've contacted you and the very fact that you are here with me in this room means that my past, present and future would no longer be the same as what it was, is and would be."

"Why are you helping me, Charles?"

"Because it's what he would have wanted."

Kurt caught a flicker of sadness in the blue-gray eyes before the bespectacled man tilted his face away from his direction.

"How's Blaine in 2024? Will he wake up by then? What will happen to him?"

"I can't tell you anything about that, Kurt."

"But why?"

He turned to Kurt, looking at him straight in the eye. The rare tinge of emotion that appeared earlier was now buried once again beneath a mask of impressive composure.

"I'm sorry, I just can't. Believe me. It'll be better this way, for all three of us."

Kurt scrutinized the handsome face. His facial expression was completely unreadable.

"Okay. If you insist." He managed at last. "And thanks for contacting Artie, Charles. If not for you, I would probably never have known what had happened to Blaine."

"No problem at all, Kurt."

The room fell into a deep silence once more. Despite obtaining the answers to some very puzzling questions that had been swirling in his mind since he met this enigmatic stranger, Kurt had felt no more less uncomfortable in this man's presence. He traced the hollow contours of Blaine's face tenderly, feeling Charles's eyes following the slow, smooth motion of his fingers on Blaine's pale skin. There was still one more burning question he had to ask. Looking into those piercing blue-gray eyes, he cleared his throat nervously.

"Charles, please pardon me for speaking so bluntly but.. " He paused for a moment and inhaled deeply. He wasn't sure if he was prepared to hear what might be awaiting him.

_You know that he knows what you are planning to ask him. Just say it now, Kurt. _

"Kurt, feel free to speak your mind."

_You love him, don't you?_

"You've known Blaine since a long time ago, haven't you?"

"Yes. He's an... old friend, I guess." Finally, Charles tore his gaze away from Kurt. His fingers fiddled absently with the bedsheets.

_I see the fondness in your eyes every time you look at him. I see the tenderness in your touch. _

"I see that you seem pretty.. close to him. He must have been someone special to you?" Kurt attempted to maintain eye contact. "Someone who's perhaps, more than a friend?" he inquired boldly.

"I was nothing more than that, Kurt. He saw me as nothing else but a friend."

Charles's eyes were gently shut as he spoke in a voice soft and level. Like his face, it betrayed no emotion, no intention. After what seemed like hours, his eyes fluttered open.

"You can tell me anything, Charles. I promise I won't murder you or something. I.. I just wanna know more about.. you and Blaine.."

"I'm not sure exactly how to say it. But I think I can show you."

"Show me?" Kurt looked at him quizzically.

"The blue door, of course. I can bring you through, though you can't see it." Charles stood up from the bed and gestured Kurt to follow him. "Come on, it's just outside the ward."

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><p>"<em>I.. Umm.. I'm.. I don't know.." A fourteen-year-old sighed. He drew his knees up close against his chest and stared ahead intently, avoiding the blue-gray eyes that were trained determinedly upon him.<em>

"_It's okay, Blaine. I kind of understand. I'm sorry I said that."_

_It was a breezy April night. On a quiet hilltop, two teenagers sat side by side, shoulders and knees touching. A drape of tranquil stillness enveloped them, enclosing them in a space that seemed miles away from the rest of the world. A world cold and rejecting. A world which could not understand. A world in which they no longer felt safe anymore._

_Blaine closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, breathing in the the fresh, cool scent of nature and allowing his mind to drift, for a moment, away from all conscious thoughts and emotions and into the peaceful calmness of rustling leaves and soft insect calls. It was not long before a cold hand fell upon his knee, pulling him right back into where he had hoped to hide away from. _

"_I.. Charles, I don't think I'm ready for this. To be honest, I'm scared." He gulped and continued in a choked voice. "No, I'm absolutely terrified. I'm not brave enough; I can't.. I can't accept who I am, at least not anytime soon I think. I really don't wanna go through what we went through two days ago."_

"_Those bloody bastards. How dare they." A crisp sound of a twig breaking cut the silent night air. His voice was calm and controlled, revealing none of the bitter hostility that his choice of words had suggested._

"_I'm sorry I can't reciprocate your feelings." Blaine mumbled apologetically, keeping his gaze averted. "But I'm glad you told me how you feel," he added with a shaky smile. "This won't affect our friendship in any way, will it?" _

"_Of course not, silly." Charles patted the boy's shoulder reassuringly. "Anyway –" he continued half-jokingly, "– should you finally decide to step out of the closet, I do expect you to look me up, alright?"_

_Blaine said nothing in reply. He leaned on the older boy's shoulder, a small smile tugging his lips._

* * *

><p>"We were close, you guessed right. He was my neighbor, my best friend, and my first crush.. Never expected to see him again after so many years." Gone was the mask of cool composure; in its place stood an expression of wistful longing mingled with a sad resignation.<p>

"Both of you didn't keep in contact with each other?" An eyebrow lifted in inquiry.

"My family moved to Chicago a couple of months later. We kept in contact through letters and emails for only a short while after that. Well, I figured that the only way to stop obsessing over him was to detach myself from him altogether." The bespectacled man let out a small sigh and shrugged. "Though I did find out stuff about him through a cousin from Dalton Academy. Heard he had something special going on with a fellow student there. Lucky boy, that Kurt Hummel." he added good-naturedly.

"You still love him."

A frozen smile. A pause. A deep sigh.

"Yes."

"Why did you contact me then? Without me here, you could continue to stay by his side."

"I'm not as noble as you think I am, Kurt. I've made some mistakes. I did some very selfish things." He extracted a black leather-bound diary from his briefcase and handed it to Kurt. "But I found this. I.. well, I read a couple of entries," he said a little sheepishly. "And it made me realize that no one, and definitely not me, can ever mean more to him than you do."

Kurt accepted the book gratefully, running his fingers through the yellowed pages. "Thank you, Charles. For everything you've done for us."

"Don't need to drown me with your heartfelt gratitude." He smiled, and then added in a more solemn tone. "Just promise me one thing, Kurt. No matter what happens in the future, don't ever leave Blaine, alright? He needs you."

"Don't worry. I can't stop loving him even if I try."

With a nod and one last lingering look at Blaine, he headed towards the exit. "And yes, if possible, do revisit 18th March, 1999. It'll be... interesting." He called out over his shoulder, just before he disappeared through the doorway.

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><p><em>18th March, 1999<em>

"_But that's not fair. I saw it first."_

_It was a serious attempt at producing a convincing glare but it ended up emerging as an adorable, harmless pout. The playroom at the mall was buzzing with the excited chatter of children; it could be that the other child had not heard him at all. Or perhaps, he was simply choosing to ignore him. _

_He stood up and repeated his words, in a voice louder and slower for emphasis. Finally, a pair of blue-green eyes lifted to meet hazel ones._

"_I reached it first. You should wait for your turn, you know." The four-year-old with the neatly combed hair replied calmly as he kneaded the green play-doh into a ball. _

"_You were playing with the dollhouse. And then you heard me saying I wanted the play-doh and so you took it away. You're mean." Eyes narrowed, the five-year-old raked a hand through his hair in frustration. With two long strides, he stepped over the scattered toys and stood directly before the other child, scowling and placing both hands firmly on his hips in a concerted effort to mimic the intimidating stance his mom takes on every time she's mad at him._

"_I'm not!" Bluish-green eyes widened in indignation at the accusation._

"_Oh yeah you are. You mean toy-snatcher."_

"_Don't say that about me. It sounds.. bad. You are the mean one. You messy-hair-meanie." Both boys were on their feet now. One of them stuck out a tongue while the other folded his arms across his chest. _

"_You're evil. First you take away my toy, then you call me names."_

"_You're the one who started it! And I'm not a toy-snatcher."_

"_Prove it."_

"_Kay. I'll allow you to play with me. See, I'm nice." The corner of his lips twitched upwards in a smirk as the four-year-old elegantly flicked a strand of hair across his forehead. _

_Messy-hair-meanie eyed his soon-to-be playmate silently, contemplating the offer for a brief moment. _

_**He's so irritating. But he's got really nice hair. **_

_He cast a quick sidelong glance at the small tub of red play-doh on the floor and then at the green play-doh ball in the other boy's hand. Grinning, he plopped down on the ground and sat cross-legged with his legs tucked beneath his thighs. _

"_Okay. But I want that green one. You take the red one." _

_He knew this would definitely annoy the younger boy, at least a little. Exactly what he wanted. He had discovered that the angry face was amusing to watch, with its dipping eyebrows knitted tightly together and the delicate facial features all scrunched up. _

_The four-year-old sighed in annoyed exasperation and crossed his arms. Bluish green eyes met hazel ones in a wordless glare._

_**Oh. Why does he have nice eyes too. Such a pretty color. So unfair. **_

"_No."_

"_No? See, I was right then. M-E-A-N-I-"_

"_Alright alright." Pretty-hair-and-eyes-meanie tore a chunk of the play-doh ball and offered it grudgingly to messy-hair-meanie. "Let's share. I'll give you half of my green one. Okay?" _

_The unexpected act of generosity was rewarded with a brilliant smile. _

"_Right. Awesome." Messy-hair-meanie accepted the colored dough happily. _

"_What are you gonna make with that?" asked his playmate, eyes shining with curiosity._

_The five-year-old poked the soft, lumpy chunk absently with his index finger. He glanced at pretty-hair-and-eyes-meanie and noted that the boy was still wearing that funny little frown. _

"_Secret," he declared gleefully, knowing well that pretty-hair-and-eyes meanie would hate it. All kids hate secrets; he knew that for a fact._

"_Aww come one tell me.."_

"_Nope." Messy-hair-meanie flashed his playmate a playful grin. "You have to guess."_

_The four-year-old watched in amusement as the other child struggled to flatten the green chunk between his palms. He decided to once again prove that he's very much a pleasant, helpful boy. _

"_This may help." He handed over a rolling pin._

"_Thanks." Another brilliant smile. Seconds passed in silence as the older boy worked with deep concentration on his craft. Pretty-hair-and-eyes-meanie watched on excitedly; his half of the green plasticine lay forgotten on the ground._

"_That's a letter B.." Bluish-green eyes lit up with comprehension. "You're making a word! Are you making your name?"The younger boy questioned excitedly._

"_Yup." Messy-hair-meanie placed a perfectly shaped letter 'L' next to the letter 'B'. _

"_Oooh let me guess. But I don't really know anyone with names starting with B -L." He frowned, fiddling with his hair. "Blonde?" A high-pitched giggle escaped his lips as he caught the look of horror on messy-hair-meanie's face. He leaned over and peered at the unruly dark hair. "Nah guess not. This doesn't look blonde at all." His fingers were mere centimeters from successfully poking a curl when a hand swatted them away._

"_Don't touch it." The curly-haired boy grumbled. He pointed to a newly-completed letter. "Blonde doesn't have an 'A' in it." He stated simply._

"_Aha! Blair?" _

"_No!"_

"_Blake?"_

"_You're really lousy at this you know."_

"_Am not." A slow smile crept across the child's face as he picked up his green play-doh and scooted closer to the boy. "I've got an idea! Let's have a competition then. I make the first two letters of my name too. And if you can guess my name before I can guess yours, you win." _

_Hazel eyes shifted away from the play-doh and landed on the earnest, excited face of the boy sitting opposite him. A lift of an eyebrow. A lopsided smile. A shrug of the shoulders. _

"_And what do I get if I win?"_

_The younger boy rested an elbow on his knee, propping his chin up on his left palm. He considered the question thoughtfully. "Well..I don't know yet. I'll decide later." With a swift, graceful motion of his fingers, he shaped a small chunk of green play-doh effortlessly. "You may not win anyway," he added teasingly. _

"_Oh, a letter K! Mmm. Kelvin? Ken? Kegan?"_

"_Wrong." Pretty-hair-and-eyes-meanie held up the second letter smugly. "Next letter is.. this." _

"_K.. U.." Messy-hair-meanie furrowed his brows, considering the possible options with great concentration. "A 'Ker' sound. Ker.. Ker.." he mumbled to no one in particular. His attempts to produce the appropriate phonological verbalization drew a snort of amusement from his playmate._"_Kud.. Kut.. Kur.. Nah." _The five-year-old_ chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully, determined to solve the puzzle. "Kurl.. Kurd.. Kurt? Kurt.. "_

"_Wha -"_

"_Kurt!" The single-syllable utterance was punctuated with a triumphant, face-splitting grin, which was spreading impossibly wider in response to the surprised squeak emitted by his playmate. "Your name's Kurt!" Messy-haired-meanie repeated with a laugh, brimming with a sense of self-achievement and looking extremely pleased with himself. "I get a reward..." He stated jubilantly in a sing-song voice as he ruffled the other boy's neatly-combed hair. He was pleasantly surprised at how soft and smooth it was. It reminded of him his mom's lovely silk dress. _

"_Don't mess up my hair, you messy-hair-meanie. Now you've ruined it." Little Kurt attempted a menacing glare, but Messy-hair-meanie's wide goofy grin was making it very difficult to maintain a straight face. He gave up trying to conceal the automatic smile that tugged his lips. _

_The curly-haired boy smiled sweetly in reply. "Can you make something for me? That shall be my reward." _

"_Okay. I'll make you a flower. A red rose. It's my favorite flower." Little Kurt extracted the red play-doh and pressed it between his palms._

_Messy-hair-meanie grinned and nodded in satisfied agreement. "I like red roses too." Then, a frown flickered across his face._

"_Do boys give other boys roses?" He had seen Daddy give roses only to Mommy and Grand-mommy._

"_I don't know. But I want to give you one anyway."_

_With that, the frown was instantly replaced by a sparkling grin. "Okay." He nodded happily._

_For the next three minutes, both boys sat opposite each other in the corner of the playroom, surrounded by tubs of colored dough. One worked with deep concentration on his creation while the other watched on with interest. One had his cheeks smeared with thin tracks of green while the other had tiny flecks of red stuck in his immaculately combed hair._

"_Done. Here, for you," said Little Kurt finally as he offered his masterpiece to his new friend. _

"_But it doesn't look too much like a rose." Messy-hair-meanie remarked with blunt truthfulness, scrutinizing the play-doh flower and turning it in his hand._

"_Sorry. I tried, but it was so difficult. If you hate it you can return it to me." Little Kurt was not doing a convincing job at hiding his disappointment. After all, he had really wanted Messy-hair-meanie to like the rose. _

"_No. You can't take back what you have given away," the five-year-old protested. "And of course I want it. This is my first ever rose."_

"_Play-doh rose." _

"_A play-doh rose that doesn't look like a rose." The curly-haired boy giggled. "But I think I like it. Very much. Thank you, Kurt."_

_Little Kurt beamed proudly. Maybe messy-hair-meanie isn't that mean after all. In fact, he's starting to think that he's rather nice. He watched the longish dark curls bob up and down as messy-hair-not-meanie nodded enthusiastically in approval of his well-earned little reward. And wondered how such hair can possibly manage to look so annoyingly messy yet beautiful at the same time. _

"_I want a real rose next time." Messy-but-beautiful-hair-not-meanie blurted out suddenly._

"_I'll give you one when I'm old." It was an automatic, unthinking response._

_Hazel eyes widened in delight. _"_Really?" _

"_Really. Cross my heart."_

"_Blaine."_

"_Mm?"_

"_Blaine. My name. You have to know my name so you can find me when we are both old. Then, you can give me a rose." The five-year-old stated matter-of-factly as if it was the most obvious, logical thing in the world._

_Smiling, Little Kurt leaned closer to gingerly pluck a fleck of green play-doh from the other boy's hair."Okay. And I like your name, Blaine. It's nice."_

"_I like you, Kurt. You're nice."_

_Little Kurt laughed. Little Blaine decided that it was a lovely sound. And he decided that he liked his friend's happy face far better than his funny angry one. _

"_I like you too, Blaine." With a playful grin, the four-year-old touched the tip of Little Blaine's nose with a play-doh-stained finger and giggled as the boy wrinkled his nose in response. "Almost as much as I like your name."_

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><p><strong><em><em>Would love to hear your suggestionsfeedback/comments:)__**

_**__Coming up nex__t chapter: When Blaine wakes up, a shocking challenge awaits them. And thus begins their journey to embrace Change, which arrives with its companions Fear and Uncertainty**. _


	15. Chapter 15:  Day One

_Hi guys, here's chapter 15. Hope you enjoy reading this! Like always, your comments/suggestions will be very much appreciated:)_

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><p><span>Chapter 15: Day One<span>

27th July, 2022

"They're beautiful. You've got good taste."

He turned to smile at the kindly gray-haired lady. "Thank you, Mam."

The elevator doors slid open and he wheeled the elderly lady into the elevator.

"Fourteenth floor, young man. Thanks."

The man lifted a finger to the elevator's button panel. It was then he noticed the tiny letters beside the '8' button.

_Oncology Center._

"Third-stage lung cancer. Doctor says I've a year left. Maximum." She announced simply.

"I'm sorry – "

"Oh please don't feel sorry for this wrinkly old lady." She laughed. It was a low pleasant sound with a faint musical quality to it. "I'm good to go, really. Most of my children are well-settled and accomplished, and my four lovely grandchildren have brought me the greatest joy one could ever imagine. Life's been good to me, my dear. Nothing to feel sorry about."

The elevator rose soundlessly. Kneeling down, the man gave the elderly lady's frail hand a light, encouraging squeeze.

"You are a wonderfully brave woman."

"Mrs Fitzgerald."

"It's great meeting you, Mrs Fitzgerald. I'm Kurt."

"Nice to meet you too, Kurt. Visiting a special someone?"

"Yeah."

"Hope she gets well soon."

"I hope so too. It's a he, by the way – my boyfriend. He's been in a coma for nearly four years now." Kurt sighed, raising his eyes to the ceiling. "And every day I step into his ward, I can't help feeling a little less hopeful than the previous day. It has been a long painful wait."

He pulled his coat tighter around himself, shoving his hands deep into the pockets. The elderly woman lifted her hand shakily and cupped his cheek. Her pale green eyes, though sunken and encircled by fines lines, were startlingly bright and alert.

"Why not think of every passing day as possibly a step closer to the day he wakes up? " she asked quietly.

"I've been trying. It's hard. Everything's changed. Sometimes, I feel somewhat like a stranger." Kurt looked down at his feet and let out another deep sigh.

"Don't torment yourself with thoughts of whether he'll wake up." The elevator came to a halt and its door slid open. "Don't let that ruin your time together. He may be in a long, deep slumber but he's still very much the same person you love, isn't he? Treasure every moment that you can spend loving him. "

A young nurse approached them and wheeled the elderly woman out of the elevator.

"To live fully is to embrace change. Have a good day, Kurt," came a soft kindly voice before both women disappeared behind a frosted glass panel.

Clutching the bouquet close against his chest, Kurt leaned heavily against the elevator wall.

"You too, Mrs Fitzgerald. And thank you," he whispered.

* * *

><p>"I've brought you roses, Blaine. Red ones; I know you love them." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Kurt brought the flowers close to his boyfriend's face. "They smell lovely, don't they? I'm sure you will say yes, but you're just too lazy lying down on your comfy bed that you refuse to reply me, you sloth. Anyway, I'll leave them on your bedside table. You can see for yourself how beautiful they are when you wake up. But they'll probably last only a couple of days so you really have to wake soon if you wanna see them."<p>

Kurt threaded his fingers with Blaine's and squeezed his hand tightly.

"Do you know what day it is today, Blaine? Can you remember? You better do, else I will tickle your sides and torture you into a ridiculous laughing fit."

"It's our 10th year anniversary, darling. Can you believe it? A whole decade of being stuck with each other." He brought the patient's cold hand to his cheek. "It's a pity we didn't celebrate our previous three anniversaries together. Which reminds me, I'm still mad, very mad, at you for keeping your surgery from me. That was a horrible lie, Warbler-boy. Very low of you. And I'll make sure you get your well-deserved punishment when you wake up."

He gazed down at the unresponsive man. Long dark lashes fanned out over his face, forming a rich contrast with the pale, bloodless skin.

"I know I've said this at least a thousand times but I just have to say it again. Blaine Anderson-Warbler, that was the lamest, stupidest, most absurd thing you've ever done, really. Who gave you the right to decide for me what I would have liked?" With a gentle touch, he wiped Blaine's face with a wet washcloth. "Did you actually think that I would find you a burden? Did you ever think that I would mind taking care of you at all? Did you ever think about how much more you would hurt me by leaving just like that, you presumptuous twat?" He questioned in a soft, level voice, struggling to keep the raw emotions in control. He would not allow his voice to crack, he told himself.

He sighed and planted a chaste kiss on Blaine's cheek.

"But I still love you, don't worry. And well, if you do wake up, I will be so over the moon that I might forget about your punishment altogether."

Running a finger across Blaine's jaw, he paused, unsure for a brief moment of what else could be said. He had never been fond of silence; it made him think too much, and drew him to delve too deeply into realms of thought that would be better much be left unvisited. He knew he had to keep talking. He mustn't stop talking, else it would all end up like it did so many times before. Tears. Falling asleep in the hospital ward. Leaving for work in the morning with a sore neck, tear-stained cheeks and a heavy heart. More tears.

"I met a sweet old lady in the elevator just now. She looked like she was in her seventies - chin length gray hair, kindly pale green eyes and a sweet smile She reminds me of my grandmother." Kurt filled his hand with a generous amount of shaving cream and applied it to Blaine's face. "We talked for a little while. She's a cancer patient; not much time left, she said. Amazing woman she is. Unafraid of death. Full of contentment at what life has offered her."

"I told her a bit about you. She didn't even bat an eyelid when I told her you're my man." He smiled. With a practiced hand, he slid the razor blade smoothly across Blaine's chin and jaw. "She's really nice to talk to. Maybe I'll bring her to visit you one day. I think you'll like her too."

He dabbed Blaine's chin with the wet washcloth, carefully removing any remaining traces of shaving cream.

"Oh and yes, I have been learning to play the guitar, though well, it's only one particular song that I've been practicing. I know, isn't it surprising that I'm finally picking it up? After years of you unsuccessfully trying to teach me to play it properly? I can so imagine you raising your brow in disbelief right now. Well actually, I was kinda hoping that.. alright I know this sounds silly but.. you know, since you adore the guitar so much, I was thinking that maybe you would..respond better if I play songs to you on a guitar."

He unzipped his guitar case.

"Nah, on second thoughts, I think I'll make an effort to play so horribly that you'll be forced to open your eyes and glare at me. Or lift your hands to snatch the guitar away."

Kurt managed a small smile and gave a quick peck on Blaine's clean-shaven chin. He got off the bed and sat in the armchair, puling the guitar across his lap.

"Your comments, whether good or bad, would be very much appreciated. And, of course you are most welcome to sing-along." Looking at the man lying peacefully on the bed, he began to sing.

_Anywhere you are, I am near  
>Anywhere you go, I'll be there<br>Anytime you whisper my name, you'll see  
>How every single promise I keep<br>Cuz what kind of guy would I be  
>If I was to leave when you need me most...<em>

_Can you hear me, darling? Listen carefully, for I mean every single word._

_What are words  
>If you really don't mean them<br>When you say them  
>What are words<br>If they're only for good times  
>Then they don't<br>When it's love  
>Yeah, you say them out loud<br>Those words, they never go away  
>They live on, even when we're gone...<em>

He could feel his voice starting to quiver. Taking a deep breath, he pushed all upsetting thoughts to the back of his mind and willed himself to focus on the one thing that mattered at the moment. Singing and playing the guitar, for Blaine.

_Anywhere you are, I am near  
>Anywhere you go, I'll be there<br>And I'm gonna be here forever more  
>Every single promise I keep<br>Cuz what kind of guy would I be  
>If I was to leave when you need me most...<em>

_I'm forever keeping my angel close._

The light drizzle outside had suddenly grown into a heavy downpour. A strong gust of wind rushed in through the fully-opened windows, stirring movements of several objects in the room. Curtains billowed; pages of an open book rustled; a sheet of paper fluttered to the ground.

The man lying on the hospital remained a picture of stillness.

"So.. how did you find it? Call me arrogant but I do think it sounded pretty awesome." Bending over the bed, he kissed Blaine full on the lips "You have to stop hibernating like a bear, Blaine. You've been sleeping for far too long. If you don't wake up soon you might not even remember my face anymore." He stroked the hollowed cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I know you can hear my voice, sweetheart. I know you heard the song. No matter what happens, cliche as this may sound, I'll be there for you alright?"

"It's funny how I used to complain that you can never keep your mouth shut. Do remember how we used to talk for five hours straight through the night? Or rather, you were the one who did the talking; I was usually half asleep by the second hour." Kurt recalled with a small smile as threaded his fingers through the dark curls. "But now, I'll give anything.. anything at all, baby, to hear your voice again."

Arms wrapped loosely around Blaine's torso, he rested his head on the bed, allowing himself to be engulfed by the warm comfort of Blaine's soft breathing.

"I miss you so darn much. Please wake up soon, Blaine."

* * *

><p><em>It was pitch dark; that was the only thing he knew for sure. He could not tell if he was in a dark place, or if his eyes were still closed. He had no idea where was, or how he had ended up here.<em>

_He blinked. Once. Twice. It was still darkness everywhere._

"_Hello...?"_

_His throat was painfully hoarse. The sound that reverberated through the place was low and croaky; he didn't think that it sounded much like his voice. But then again, he couldn't exactly remember how his voice sounded like._

_He took an uncertain step forward, stretching out his hands to feel his way around. The place seemed oddly empty. Slowly, he took a few more steps. The ground felt smooth and icy cold against his bare feet. He figured he must be indoors – a room perhaps – though it certainly seemed like a strange place for a room. The place reminded of him nature; it smelt strongly of rain, intermingled with the faint scent of roses. He continued walking, keeping his hands outstretched in hope to seek contact with something.. anything. _

_There were no walls around him, no objects standing in his way. Very strange indeed. _

_Then, he thought he heard a voice, faint and faraway. It floated around him, delicately grazing his ears like the light fluttery touch of a feather. But he could barely make out the words, nor could he recognize the voice. _

_He tried to follow the voice but it proved to be impossible. It appeared to be coming from all directions. He strained his ears, struggling to catch a wisp of the sound._

_It sounded like the person was repeating a word, over and over again._

_He thought he heard a name. _

_Yes, it definitely sounded like a name. It seemed that someone was calling out for another person. But the name sounded completely unfamiliar. So did the voice._

_Tap.. tap.. tap.._

_His feet was growing numb but he willed himself to continue walking. Five more steps. Eight more steps. Nothing awaited him. He could not remember ever feeling so lost and alone. _

_Tap.. tap .. tap_

_Ten more steps._

_A sharp pang of fear coursed through his body. Since young, he had always been afraid of being alone in the dark. He had to get out of this strange place. There must be a way out of here. _

_This couldn't be real. It must be a dream._

* * *

><p><em>He presumed he was in a forest. Tall thin trees loomed over him. The rain was pouring down relentlessly. Raindrops flattened his sleek brown hair and streaked down his face; it felt freezing cold against his skin. <em>

_A twig snapped behind him. He turned around. Holding his breath, he listened. He thought he heard footsteps._

_Then, he saw it. A flash of a slim figure; a glimpse of dark curly hair._

_He walked briskly towards the man who had his back facing him. "Blaine? Darling, is that you?"_

_The man froze and turned around. For a split second, the man stared at him straight in the eye. _

_He caught a fleeting sight of a familiar face before the man sped off without a backward glance._

_He immediately gave chase, running past trees and sweeping away branches and leaves that stood in his way. He called__ out the man's name and begged him to stop running._

_Beep.. Beep.. Beep.._

_A shrill sound rang repetitively in his ear, beeping in synchrony with his footsteps thumping against the soft muddy ground._

_Beep.. Beep.. Beep.._

_A sharp pain seared through his leg as he fell on his knees and elbows. He watched helplessly as the man moved further away from him, his form shrinking away and finally disappearing altogether into the dense forest. _

_The beeping persisted, growing in frequency and intensity._

_Please don't leave me, Blaine. I need you. _

_Please let this be a dream._

* * *

><p><em>Beep..Beep..BEEP...<em>

Bluish-green eyes snapped open just in time to see a team of two doctors and three nurses rushing into the ward. Immediately, the medical professionals were crowding around the bed. Half-asleep, surprised, and very much alarmed, Kurt was shoved aside.

"Blood pressure on the rise."

"Pupils dilated."

"Cardiac output increasing."

"Heart rate stable."

"Abnormal eye movements."

"Neural signals erratic..."

"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on here! Is there something wrong with Blaine?" Kurt asked frantically as he struggled to push his way towards the bed.

"Good news, Mr Hummel, Mr Anderson is showing sighs of consciousness. But – "

Doctor Brandon's words were interrupted a soft groan. Eight pairs of eyes immediately shifted to the patient.

Slowly, a pair of eyes fluttered half-open, revealing a glimpse of hazel.

"Blaine.." His heart pounded wildly against his chest as he stood by the bed, one hand on Blaine's hair and the other clutching his hand. Doctor Allison flashed a tiny torch into the patient's eyes, while Doctor Brandon stared wordlessly at the heart rate and neural signal charts.

_Consciousness. That is a good thing isn't it? Blaine's waking up, isn't he?_

Yet, Kurt could feel only a gnawing sense of dread. Something seemed wrong; he could sense it. But he had no idea what or why. He glanced helplessly at the doctors. Yes, something's definitely wrong.

"Mr Anderson? Can you hear me? Can you see me?"

"Blaine, it's me, Kurt.. I'm here.. don't be afraid, I'm here.."

Hazel eyes blinked open, wide and still. A small whimper escaped his lips, followed by a frustrated groan.

"Why the fuck are all the lights switched off?"

Kurt froze. "Blaine.. Darling.." He started weakly. It was seven-thirty in the morning. Sunlight streamed generously into the room.

Doctor Brandon waved three fingers before the patient's eyes. "Mr Anderson. Can you – "

"Why is it so fucking dark here?"

His heart twisted into a tight knot. _No,no,no,no. This is not happening. Please let this be a dream. _

"Where am I? And who the hell is Kurt?"

Kurt felt his whole world crashing down, overwhelming and suffocating him entirely. Instinctively, he withdrew his hand, staring wide-eyed at the man in shock and confusion. "Blaine?"

The hoarse voice rose in pure unrestrained panic as blank lifeless eyes moved wildly in their sockets.

"Who _**is **_Blaine?"

* * *

><p><strong><em>Post-consciousness: Day One<em>**

**_27th July, 2022_**

**_6:40 PM_**

_Dear Diary,_

_Good news: Blaine woke up this morning.  
><em>_Bad news: He lost his sight. He doesn't remember a single thing prior to the surgery. He has no idea who he is._

_It has been one hell of a day. Blaine had been nearly hysterical when he first woke up, but I think he has somewhat calmed down by now. Mr and Mrs Anderson have been here in his ward since morning. Blaine doesn't remember them, of course. He doesn't even remember me. I won't attempt to describe that pain in words._

_Just called Dad and Carole and Finn. Cried like a baby on the phone. They insisted on coming over this weekend but I managed to convince them that I'll cope fine. They have way too much on their hands now. Plus, Dad's not fit to travel. Anyway felt better after talking to them. Promised them that I will call them again soon. Miss them so much._

_Thankfully, Brandon says that Blaine's loss of vision is temporary. It would return in a few days' time, maximum a week. However, there's not much the doctors can do about his memory loss. Had a long talk with Allison who specializes in amnesia. Unfortunately, no one can be sure of how long it would take for Blaine to regain his memories, or how much he would be able to recall eventually. She also mentioned that there may be some subtle personality changes. Damn._

_Blaine can be discharged tonight. They are doing a final check on him right now. Mr and Mrs Anderson says they are fine with Blaine staying with me, if he agrees to it. I haven't asked him yet but I do hope he says yes. I want to be the one taking care of him, whether he remembers me or not. __We told him a bit about his life before the brain injury. Well actually it was Mrs Anderson who did most of the talking. I haven't told him much about us, except that we had met in high school and have been boyfriends for almost 10 years. He listened quietly throughout. I can't read what he's thinking anymore._

_He was silent the entire day, except for a few emotional outbursts. His lunch and dinner were left untouched; in fact, he threw it at the nurse who tried coaxing him to eat. I've never seen Blaine so angry before. I'm terrified. Will he still love me the same way he did before? With a past entirely wiped out,would there still be a future for us? I can't even imagine how this feels like for him, lost and alone, disconnected from the world and stripped bare of any memory, any sense of identity._

_I really want to help him but I'm just as lost. I have no idea how to make him feel better. This is all hideously warped but a dark tiny part of me almost wished – just almost – that he hadn't woken up. Things were much simpler then._

The door swung open. Kurt dropped the pen into his lap and spun around.

"It's okay. I can get to the bed on my own thank you very much."

Blaine spoke dryly, shrugging off the nurse who was leading him by the arm. "I would like to be alone, please." He made his slowly but steadily towards the bed. When his knees hit the bed frame, he plopped down onto the mattress, fingers tugging the bedsheets anxiously.

The nurse cast a quick glance in Kurt's direction. Kurt nodded. She left the room without a word, closing the door gently behind her.

Kurt sat stiffly in the armchair, careful not to make a sound. His hands rested on the opened diary that lay in his lap as observed Blaine silently. Blaine stared straight ahead, his eyes wide and still. A hand jerked distractedly to his hair. His mouth was set in a thin line, and he appeared to be deep in thought. Fingers drumming restlessly on the sheets, he sighed and shifted his body forward, causing the bed to creak softly beneath him with the sudden movement.

"Aren't you gonna say something?"

"Oh. Umm. I.. How – "

"How did I know you were here?" Blaine gave a small strained smile and continued in a dull voice, "I may be blind but my other senses are still working fine, you know. I recognize your cologne... Kurt. Nice blend of lavender and oakmoss."

"You loved it." Kurt said softly, studying Blaine's face for any sign of recollection or flicker of emotion. There was none; the gaunt face was no less vacant than those hazel eyes. "You loved the scent of lavender." He winced inwardly as he realized his use of the past tense, which painfully reinforced the fact that everything he had known about this man, and everything that they had shared before, was now completely obliterated.

_How much have you changed? Do you still love the things you did in the past?_

"I don't know."

Kurt snapped back from his thoughts. "About what?"

"About whether I'm still the same person you knew. You were just asking that a moment ago." Kurt cursed himself silently for expressing his thoughts aloud. Blaine sighed and rubbed his eyes absently. "I'm clueless. Completely, utterly, horrifyingly clueless about everything. I have not a clue about who I am, what kind of life I had, who my family was, who I had fallen in love with..." He slammed his hand hard onto the bed, growling in sheer frustration."It's fucking frightening, you know. I can't believe this is actually happening to me."

"You'll regain your sight in a couple of days, Blaine."

"Yeah, thank god. Great, one disability down. Just one other left to overcome. Yeah, not too big a deal. I've just had twenty plus years of my life erased, and I have no fucking idea that a Blaine Anderson actually existed, that's all. Life's fucking wonderful. And yeah, let's go out for a drink tonight to celebrate a brand new fucking chapter of my life."

Kurt bit his lower lip, fighting the hot sensation that was stinging his eyes. He was determined not to let the tears flow. He had to be strong, not only for himself but also for Blaine. Crying would do nothing good for the both of them right now. He struggled to think of an appropriate response, certain that Blaine would want to hear none of the you-have-to-be-strong-your-life-could-have-been-worse crap.

"It's not wonderful at all. There's nothing worth celebrating. In fact, I would never ever wanna be in your shoes, Blaine Anderson." He would, actually. He knew he would willingly switch places with Blaine to rid him of this torment, but Blaine didn't need to know about this, of course.

He moved to sit down beside Blaine on the bed. It creaked nosily beneath their combined weight. "But whatever it is, I'll be here. I can't promise things will get better but I'll promise to help. Or try to help. I'll talk to you, bring you to places that you've been to before, tell you everything you want to know about the past. I'll do my best to help you to regain your memory, Blaine." He had an instinctive urge to reach for his hand, but decided to restrain himself. He reminded himself that he would take things slowly. Blaine had more than enough to handle right now.

The two of them fell into a thoughtful silence. Finally, Blaine took a deep breath and cleared his throat."I'm sorry.. I-I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. And – " he paused and slowly stretched out a hand, resting his palm lightly on Kurt's knee. " – I'm sorry that I can't remember you at all. Or anything about our relationship. You must be feeling fucking terrible."

"That makes the two of us. At least we can whine to each other about life's miseries."

A soft laughter filled the air. It was a beautiful sound, a sound that offered some tiny reassurance that things were perhaps not entirely hopeless after all. It was much softer and less unrestrained than the old-Blaine laughter, but no less genuine. The sound was, without a doubt, characteristically and uniquely Blaine.

"By the way, I still love it." Blaine tilted his face in Kurt's direction. A slight but perceptible smile played on his lips.

"Sorry?"

"Your cologne. Lavender. I still love it."

Kurt smiled. He was grateful for the little things that never change.

* * *

><p><em>Coming up next..<br>__When Blaine eventually regains his sight, the two men will embark on an unconventional journey in a quest to retrieve Blaine's lost memories. But before that, Kurt has to learn to deal with a blind and amnesic Blaine. And he's definitely not the easiest person to live with. Questions and revelations will unfold, amidst a crazy combination of sweet exchanges and spiteful words. _


	16. Chapter 16: Day Two

_Chapter 16: Day Two_

_Hi guys, here's the next chapter:)_

_I'll be taking a short hiatus (probably for about two to three months) before the next update as my personal life is crazily hectic right now:( Really sorry about that but I promise I'll definitely carry on writing this fic. Hope that you guys will continue following it!:)_

_Thank you to each and every one who has made an effort to review the chapters. Love you guys:)_

_Songs: Teenage Dream, Mad World_

* * *

><p><strong>Post-consciousness: Day Two<strong>

**28th July 2022**

**8:20 AM**

_Dear Diary,_

_Blaine moved in last night. He's sleeping in the guest bedroom. Silly stubborn boy. Offered to let him have my room with the private bathroom but he insistently refused. Well, except for a whole lot of cursing and a couple of falls and bumping into furniture here and there, things have been rather smooth. He's still silent most of the time but at least he hadn't been snapping at people as much as he did when he first woke up. Not too bad for a first start I guess..._

Kurt snapped his diary shut and placed it back into the dresser's drawer. Instinctively, he reached his hand beneath a thick stack of papers, allowing his fingers to brush against the worn leathery cover of a small, heavy book. Not a single diary entry had been read since he received that book from Charles, though it had been fear – not disinterest – that had kept him from flipping through the pages. As much as he tried, he could not shrug off that irrational feeling that reading Blaine's old diary entries would be somewhat akin to looking at the old photographs of a dead loved one. Out of an illogical fear that reading about the intimate bits and pieces of Blaine's life over the years prior to that incident would only make him miss Blaine harder, the book had been left untouched though not forgotten at the bottom of the drawer.

But now that Blaine had regained consciousness, perhaps he would flip through it soon. After all, catching a glimpse of Blaine's perspective of the various significant events of his life would probably offer some clues on where to start in the quest of helping Blaine to regain his memories.

He dug out the book from the depths of the drawer and shoved it under his pillow, before heading towards the guest bedroom down the end of the hallway. He knocked gently on the door. Once. Twice. Thrice. There was no answer.

He placed a hand on the doorknob, hesitating for a brief moment before turning it with a firm grip. The door creaked open nosily.

An immense warmth swept over him as he took in the once-so-familiar sight of the man lying on the bed, left cheek pressed against the pillow and back facing the door. Quietly, he made his way towards the sleeping figure. Footsteps padded softly against the hardwood parquet floor.

"Morning," came a dull mumbled greeting.

The morning sun cast a glow on the man's face, revealing dark circles under his sunken eyes. He looked like he had hardly slept.

"Morning. Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Nah. Been awake since five."

Kurt studied the man in concern as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Was the room too warm for you? Or was it the bed? Was it too – "

"No, silly. The room's perfect. And so is the bed. I just.. well I had too many things on my mind, I guess." The curly-haired man uncurled himself from beneath the blankets and grudgingly shifted himself up into a half-sitting position. "Too much for me to sort out, and come to terms with... I guess sleep's really not high up on my priority list right now. Especially not after I've just found my way out of a fucking four-year long slumber." He scowled, rubbing his eyes vigorously.

"Don't do that." Kurt gently pried Blaine's hand away from his eyes. "You'll get an eye infection."

"Yes, _doctor_." Blaine answered with a weary dullness, resting his head against the wooden headboard. Kurt propped a pillow behind the man's back.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fine."

"Hurting anywhere?"

"Nope."

"You sure?" Kurt scrutinized him for any outward signs of pain or discomfort. Blaine's eyes were tightly shut, and his breathing seemed a little harsh.

"Still having that bad headache?"

"No."

"Well.. umm alright... just let me know if you need anything, kay?"

"Of course."

Kurt sighed inwardly. It was extremely difficult to hold a proper conversation with post-coma Blaine, he realized.

"Do you need me to help you to the bathroom? It's – "

" – to the left of this room." With an audible sigh, Blaine finished the sentence for him quickly, exasperation rising in his voice. "Kurt. Elizabeth. Hummel. You've religiously repeated this at least a hundred times since I got here. No one, yes not even a blind man, could possibly _not_ know this place like the back of his hand after you brought me on that absurdly, impressively detailed tour of your apartment _thrice_ last night." Scratching the back of his neck, he added a little frustratedly. "I understand you're concerned, Kurt. And I'm extremely grateful for everything you've done for me. But really, you don't have to fuss around me so much, alright? I may be blind and amnesic but I'm not a helpless two-year-old. I'll learn to find my way around." Lips curving into a smirk, he announced almost triumphantly, "In fact, I've done a bit of exploring around the house in the night, while you were soundly sleeping like a log."

Kurt winced. He really was a heavy sleeper. Despite worrying himself silly about Blaine (he had wanted to sleep at the doorway of Blaine's room, but the man had kicked up a huge fuss and slammed the door unceremoniously in his face), he had somehow managed to sleep through the night, blissfully oblivious to Blaine's independent exploration of the house. His mind helpfully conjured the horrific images of Blaine banging into walls and tumbling down the stairs in the middle of the night, and very much alarmed at the likely possibility of it happening, he made a mental note to set his alarm at regular intervals in the night so that he could check on the stubborn, help-refusing man.

"Anyway, just so to prove that I'm perfectly capable of moving around on my own... the wardrobe's two steps in the north-west direction from the foot of the bed. Six steps in the north-east direction, to get from the right side of the bed to the door. Five steps to the left from the bedroom door and I'll reach the bathroom. Four steps from the bathroom to the top of the stairs. Six steps to the first staircase landing, and another six to the ground floor. Five steps to the right and I'll get to the couch. Kitchen's eight steps forward from the back of the couch, and two steps to the right."

"Wow. That's.. pretty cool." The surprised awe in Kurt's voice was unmistakable. Blaine gave a smug smile.

"Thank you. It's really not that difficult with a bit of practice."

"Great. Now I would be saving myself a hell lot of trouble. Just make sure you don't ruin my furniture. Or worse still, break any of my precious non-Blaine-proof porcelain vases."

"Liar." Blaine smirked. "I could hear you putting away all your _precious non-Blaine-proof_ treasures from outside the door yesterday."

"Well.. fine. I decided to not take the risk, you know." Kurt replied nonchalantly with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Anyway," he placed a hand lightly on the man's shoulder for a more-than-appropriate moment as he added, "I'll be in the kitchen making breakfast. See you downstairs in twenty minutes time, alright?"

Ignoring Blaine's protests about having not much of an appetite, he lifted himself up from the bed.

"No excuses, Blaine Anderson. You have to eat something. Something _decent_. I'm sure that my cooking is a whole lot tastier than the tasteless inedible stuff that hospitals call food." He patted the man's tousled bed-hair, resisting an urge to plant a kiss on the adorable pouting lips. "And if I still don't see you by then, I swear I _will_ personally carry you down, Anderson. Bridal style."

"God, you really are a bossy naggy old lady, Hummel." Blaine responded wearily, grumbling under his breath, "How I managed to tolerate you in the past, I have no idea."

"Yes, won't deny that I'm a little controlling but really, it's all for your own good, Anderson." Pointedly ignoring Blaine's last comment, he grinned as Blaine rolled his eyes and flopped face-down on the other pillow. "You can thank me for the awesome breakfast later. Which I know you definitely will," he called out over his shoulder as he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

The curly-haired man listened, waiting till the sound of footsteps grew softer and eventually faded away into nothingness. He sat up, leaning heavily against the headboard and pressing fingers against his temples in a futile attempt to relieve the throbbing pain in his head. Squeezing his eyes tight, he willed his mind to retrieve the images. They were all vague and fuzzy now but he was sure that the scenes had been fresh in his mind just a moment ago. It must have meant something, something more than just a dream or a figment of his imagination. The people, the voices, the place, the smell... it was all too realistic, too vivid to be unreal.

_The smell..._

He inhaled deeply. A faint and nearly imperceptible smell lingered in the air. It was the same familiar scent that he knew had accompanied those images. He wasn't sure what it really was that felt so oddly comforting though – whether it was the scent of lavender, or the presence of the man that he had learned to associate it with.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked. Nothing but a blanket of pure blackness. Shifting his body to the left where he knew the window was located, he reached blindly for the crank handle. He pushed the window open further and was pleasantly greeted by the rich smell of grass and sunshine and morning dew. A beautiful morning, it seemed.

_But really, what's beautiful about it when you can't see anything._

He stretched a hand out of the window, feeling his skin soak up the warm sunlight greedily. A dull ache twisted within him as he wondered if there would ever be light in his world again.

_So many questions. So little answers. _

He sighed. Retracting his hand, he swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, counting steps under his breath as he made his way carefully towards the bathroom.

* * *

><p>"So, how do I look like?"<p>

Kurt looked up from mid-sip of his English tea, the abruptness of the question taking him by surprise. They had been eating in silence for the past ten minutes as Blaine, who had been far too occupied with devoting his full attention on getting just the right amount of butter and maple syrup on his waffles, had expressed immense annoyed impatience in response to Kurt's earlier not-so-successful attempts at striking a conversation.

"You mean how you look _right now_?" Kurt lowered the teacup from his lips, holding it daintily in mid-air. "Or how you looked like before the coma? A hell lot of difference, you know?"

Blaine snorted and thought for a moment. "The usual me, I guess. Not this current abnormally sleep-deprived, frail, confused, cranky Blaine."

"Well.." Kurt smiled, gazing affectionately at the man sitting opposite him and studying the all-too-familiar face. "You're about five foot eight with dark curly hair so unruly that it sticks out all over the place." He laughed as Blaine self-consciously patted down his hair with both hands. "Oh don't fret over that hair of yours, you can somehow pull off that curly-mop look. Looks adorable on you, really."

Blaine responded with a raised eyebrow. The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile. A tint of pink spread over his pale cheeks.

"And you've got hazels eyes framed by long, thick lashes, a slightly pointy chin... " Kurt continued, smiling with a faraway look in his eyes. "... And a gorgeous, heart-melting pearly white smile. You could never stop smiling... always so bright and cheery and chirpy. And your laughter.. it was so extremely contagious. Used to call you my little Laugh-a-Lot Care Bear. It's your favorite pet name." He chuckled as he recalled how Blaine hated that nickname.

"Laugh-a-Lot Care Bear?" Those blank hazel eyes fluttered close for a brief moment. "That orange one with the smiling yellow star on her tummy?"

"Yeah!" Eyes widened, Kurt scooted his chair closer and studied Blaine with earnest hopefulness. "Do you remember anything about that? Trigger any memory of us?"

Blaine paused for a long moment, brows furrowed in concentration. After what seemed like hours, he gave a deep sigh and sank into his chair.

"No," he muttered despondently. "Not a single bit. The only thing I can remember is how that Care Bear looked like. Like it's of any fucking help." He growled in frustration as he delivered a sharp kick to the leg of his chair.

"It's okay." Kurt responded with forced cheerfulness, struggling to hide his disappointment. "It's only the second day. I'm sure you will start recalling bits and pieces of the past eventually."

Blaine mumbled an incoherent reply as he jabbed at his waffle almost menacingly.

"Oh and I must add – " Kurt continued lightheartedly, determined to lighten the tense atmosphere, " – what you're wearing right now is very, very.. _interesting_." He added with a mischievous grin, "A red-and-white striped tee with a pair of purple checkered boxers, if you are curious to know."

The curly-haired man groaned, his face instantly scrunching up in an adorable look of half-horror, half-disgust. "And you didn't say anything until now?" he whined as he tugged the hem of his shirt.

Very much amused but deciding that it would be cruel to laugh at the expense of a blind man, Kurt stifled a giggle and smiled sweetly instead. "You didn't ask. Plus, you weren't exactly interested in striking a conversation." he stated simply and resumed his tea-drinking.

"Fine. Laugh all you want now for you won't get a chance to seek such amusement after I regain my sight. I've got a impeccable fashion sense, just so you know, " Blaine said huffily, before cursing at yet another unsuccessful endeavor at cutting the waffles into small squares. A piece of waffle skidded across the table, which made Kurt realize, very belatedly, that making waffles for breakfast was a horrible, horrible mistake. Giving himself a mental kick for not being more mindful about that, Kurt hastily picked up the fallen waffle chunk with his knife and fork.

"Blaine, let me help you with that." he offered, leaning towards the man.

"No." Blaine resisted, jaw clenched and lips pressed in a firm line.

"Oh come on.."

"I said 'no'. Which part of this simple, idiot-proof two-letter word do you fucking not comprehend?"

Kurt sighed in exasperation. "Blaine Anderson, does it cost you a limb to let somebody assist you?"

"I just don't like it, okay? I'm not a fucking disabled person."

"No one's treating you like one!" Kurt glared at Blaine in annoyance, before realizing seconds later that it was stupidly pointless to do so since Blaine would not see it anyway. "Seriously. You have to stop wallowing in self-pity. It's not gonna do you any good."

"Stop wallowing in self-pity?" Blaine snarled, dropping his fork on the table with a loud clang. "Sure, easy for you to say when you're not in my shoes."

Kurt let out another frustrated sigh. Taking a deep breath, he spoke in a calm, level voice. "Blaine Anderson. I'm helping you_ not_ because I pity you, _not_ because I see you as a disabled person who's incapable – " He reached for Blaine's plate, just as the other man grabbed it.

His palms ended up resting firmly on the back of Blaine's hands.

The curly-haired man froze, startled, at the sudden contact that felt so foreign yet strangely familiar.

Kurt stared, transfixed, at the hands that were pressed together in that painfully familiar manner that brought forth a flood of memories.

He tore his gaze away from their hands, and glanced up at Blaine. The hazel eyes were wide opened, frozen in an unreadable expression.

_But because I love you._

" – but because I... care. I care very deeply about you, Blaine."

Blaine lifted his chin, revealing a faint shadow of a smile. His eyes, though blank and lifeless, appeared to be staring directly through Kurt. Clearing his throat and coughing lightly, Blaine pulled his hands away. Words tumbled out in soft, swift whisper.

"I know. I'm.. sorry. Umm.. the waffles are good, by the way."

"I know." Kurt smiled. "You loved waffles. Insisted that I make them for breakfast every weekend." His smile widened. "And there was one unfortunate Sunday morning... you threw a massive bitch-fit when I decided to make strawberry shortcake for breakfast instead. No awesome waffles plus a change to a predictable routine equals to a very grouchy, sulky Blaine indeed."

"Oh." Blaine lowered his head, hiding a blush. Dark curls fell carelessly over his eyes.

Breakfast was quickly resumed in silence. One man sipped his tea, watching the other cut his waffles messily. A clumsily-cut waffle square flew off the plate again and landed softly on the table. Kurt picked it up and surreptitiously placed it back in its original place.

The awkward silence stretched between them.

Kurt kept his eyes trained on the man sitting before him. Any trace of a smile had disappeared. An emotionless mask had replaced the short-lived expression of tenderness. For the upteenth time, Blaine opened his mouth as if he was planning to say something, but he immediately snapped it shut again. Kurt struggled to decipher the meaning behind that; he was finding it extremely unsettling, to say the least.

"Blaine. What's wrong? Is.. is there anything you wanna talk about?"

"No." Blaine replied curtly. "Just wanted to ask for more butter."

Kurt snorted at the smooth delivery of the lie. The drumming of the fingers on the tabletop was a dead giveaway; Blaine could never fail to keep his fingers still whenever he was nervous or lying. Some things really did not change, indeed.

"Don't bother lying to me, Blaine. I've been with you for almost a decade. Would be an enormous failure of a boyfriend if I couldn't tell that you were lying."

Blaine chewed his lower lip. His fingers fiddled restlessly with the edge of the tablecloth.

"Kurt. Can you.. tell me more about us?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. He finished the last of his tea and gently placed the empty teacup on the saucer. "Of course, thought you'd never ask. "

He observed Blaine's expression and was surprised to see knit brows and a deep frown. Blaine had put down his cutlery, and was now leaning forward with elbows resting on the tabletop and chin in his palms. Kurt quickly tried to recall if he had just unintentionally said or did something to upset him. But then again, Blaine had been wearing a perpetual frown most of the time, except for the occasional lopsided half-smiles and extremely rare grins.

"I don't understand. You spent the whole of yesterday evening telling me about my job, my parents, my high school days, the Warblers, the singing competitions... but nothing at all about yourself –

"I did say that we met in high school, and that we've known each other for about ten years."

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. "Yes, and that's _all_ that you mentioned. Which hardly counts as anything," he insisted, raking a hand through his hair and unintentionally messing it up further. "Why are you keeping the details of our relationship from me? Unless there were things that happened between us that are better left forgotten, I can't imagine why you wouldn't tell me more about us." The vacant hazel eyes snapped open, waiting expectantly for an explanation. A fleeting expression of worry flashed across his face, as if he was dreading what might await him.

"No, nothing of that sort, Blaine," Kurt explained quickly. "I... I just kinda thought that it must have felt so strange for you.. to suddenly realize that you have a boyfriend whom you have no memory of. Hell, I wasn't sure at all if you even wanted to remember him." He rambled on, struggling to construct his thoughts into coherent utterances. "I mean.. I was thinking.. What if you wanna start afresh? What if you decide that you don't love this man who is now nothing more than a stranger to you? I don't know how you planned to move from here, Blaine, and I figured out it would be best to take things slow..maybe let you get used to my presence first or something. I don't wanna pressure you into anything when I know you have no memory of us, let alone any feelings for me..."

Blaine let out a deep sigh as he brushed back his hair with his fingers,

"This is all so screwed up, isn't it? But whatever it is, I still wanna hear about everything, Hummel. Right from the very beginning to the end. You were my long-time boyfriend, for goodness sake. It just.. feels fucking weird being around you all day yet not knowing anything at all about our relationship." Blaine popped the last bit of waffle into his mouth and gave a lopsided half-smile. "Plus, no, I definitely do not intend to start afresh. In fact, I'm planning to pick up right from where I left."

Kurt didn't understand why but he had a sudden urge to hug the man. His heart leaped in a wondrous combination of joy and relief.

"Sure, of course. Of course I'll gladly tell you about our past. But first, let me wash the dishes – " Grinning, Kurt leaned over and casually wiped a streak of maple syrup from Blaine's chin. " – while you go wash your face. Better not let that stay on your skin for too long else it'll be difficult to remove."

"Maple syrup is a good natural moisturizer. Someone told me that before, I'm sure."

Kurt broke into a wide grin. It's odd yet endearing how Blaine remembers the most random things. Chuckling, he cleared the plates and headed to the kitchen.

"Wait for me in the living room, Blaine. I've got stuff to show you."

* * *

><p>"Are you serious? I actually did all this for you?"<p>

"Yeah. One CD for every single valentine's day, birthday, anniversary. You were so predictable that you bordered on boring, I'm afraid."

Blaine had intended to deliver a light punch on Kurt's shoulder but as a result of some severe miscalculation, it landed squarely on the man's chest instead.

"Oww. You ought to come with a warning label, Blaine Anderson. 'Beware. Highly irritable and temperamental man with volatile moods and violent tendencies. Befriend at your own risk.'"

Blaine flashed him an a innocent half-smile. "That's for calling me boring, you ungrateful human. Personalized music albums recorded just for you... wow.. I mean, seriously? Who could possibly not love that?" Leaning against the back of the couch with a smirk on his face, he couldn't resist adding playfully, "Kurt Hummel is one _very_ lucky man."

Kurt laughed. He was starting to find post-coma Blaine's signature smirk incredibly adorable and irresistibly sexy at the same time. Post-coma Blaine might be snappy, cranky and hot-headed – a whole world of difference from the ever so sweet-tempered old Blaine, but somehow, thankfully, he still managed to find him every bit as charming and lovable as before.

Kurt gazed at the man who was seated with both legs propped up on the couch, arms wrapped around his knees and fingers tapping unconsciously to the music playing through the stereo system. He unabashedly admired the tousled bed-hair, the way those messy curls framed the handsome face so perfectly. He watched the long thick lashes fall gently upon the contours of his hazel eyes every time he blinked, and wondered how such a tiny movement could possibly look so impossibly beautiful. He gave a contented sigh. Ridiculous as it might sound, he felt like he was falling in love, all over again.

"Kurt Hummel worked hard for that, you know," Kurt replied smugly. "He was an awesome boyfriend. Blaine Anderson adored him so much that he just had to express his over-pouring affection through song."

The oh-so-annoyingly-charming smirk was now replaced by a warm heart-melting smile. "We were very much in love, weren't we?"

"Without a doubt."

"We were both very lucky men then." The smile lingered for only a little longer before it ebbed away. "I still can't believe that I have absolutely no memory of it all. This is absurd.. I can't even recall how you look like. Seriously, I don't understand how you can actually not be hating me right now."

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would I hate you for that? " Kurt chided lightly. Stretching a hand over the space between them, he patted Blaine's knee and added in a lower voice. "You're still very much loved, just so you know."

Blaine merely smiled in reply, but there was something in his expression that flooded Kurt with a wonderful warmth.

Conversation halted and they fell into a comfortable silence. A chirpy, cheerful seventeen-year-old singing voice blared in the background.

"I wish I can see you, Kurt."

"I'm sure you will be able to do so soon."

"I don't want to wait for days or maybe weeks or months or years." The curly-haired man replied dully, sulking. "I want to know exactly how you look like right now."

Kurt retrieved an empty CD cover that lay between them. On its front was a self-taken photo of their teenage selves dressed identically in blue-with-red-piping blazers and striped ties. Seventeen-year-old Blaine had draped an arm over his boyfriend's shoulder, and both boys were grinning brilliantly at the camera.

"Why not you make a guess?"

"I can't remember anything."

"Well, that's the fun part, isn't it? You have to imagine how I look like based on whatever limited impression you have gathered of me."

Blaine blinked, a small smile lighting up his face. "You know, I have no idea at all but if I have to make a guess... I suppose.." He paused, considering for a moment before continuing. "Ash blonde hair? Hmm... Blue eyes? Fair-skinned, that I'm quite sure about. Slim, that's a definite; your hand's too small to belong to a bulky or pudgy man. And, I guess you're taller than I am. Unless you've been deceiving me by wearing heeled shoes all this while."

Kurt gave a snort of amusement. "Not too horrible. Bingo about my height, built and skin. My eyes are a shade of bluish-green eyes though. And you are way way off about the hair. I swear I've nothing against blondes but – "

"Come here."

Kurt froze in surprise, almost convinced that what his brain had just registered was merely a result of his overactive imagination. Post-coma Blaine had never once initiated any close contact with him. In fact, the man had seemed almost uncomfortable with being anywhere within a meter from him.

"Sorry, what did you just say?"

"Yes you heard right." Blaine rolled his eyes. With a quick movement, he blindly pushed away the CDs that were occupying the seat between them. "You are too far away," he pouted, patting at the newly-cleared space. "Come sit right here. I promise I won't bite."

With an impossibly wide grin on his face (he knew he was looking absolutely silly right now and was almost relieved that Blaine couldn't see that), Kurt readily scooted over to sit next to Blaine. Elbows touched, and bare knees brushed against each other ever so slightly.

"Stop staring." Blaine crossed his arms over his chest, smirking.

"I-I wasn't. Argh.. alright, fine, I was. Umm, sorry about that?"

"I know you stare at me all the time.. I can somehow feel it. Just because I can't see anything doesn't mean that I'm oblivious to that." The tone in Blaine's voice was teasing and surprisingly, without the slightest trace of annoyance. "Exercise some self-control, won't you? At least try not to do that so often. It makes me self-conscious."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable with my..er.. constant admiring – umm – _looking_. I'll try to - no I mean, I will stop – "

The ability to produce coherent sentences was instantly lost when a familiar touch tingled his skin. His breath hitched and a small shudder ran through his body as the fingers, cautiously and hesitantly, ghosted over the sensitive spot behind his ears. They trailed down his cheeks, tracing the contours of his face and brushing gently over his eyes, nose and lips.

"You've got a nice sharp nose. And soft lips. And really really smooth skin."

Kurt wasn't sure if he could manged a sensible, appropriate reply. He highly doubted so. His eyes fluttered close as he smiled against the feather-light touch of Blaine's fingers.

The fingers rested on his lips for a moment longer before sweeping upwards. They ran gently across his forehead and landed in his hair, weaving through the medium-brown strands with a smooth, firm touch. His pulse quickened, and he bit down on his lower lip.

Blaine leaned in closer. Kurt felt a soft warm breath tickle his ear, sending yet another shiver through his body. He snapped his eyes open.

"I like the feel of your hair. It smells good too." The voice was tender, and Kurt swore it had dropped an octave lower.

The corners of Blaine's lips curved upwards. Not the usual smirk or a faint shadow of a grin, but a wide genuine smile.

"Thank you." It was the safest, simplest two words that Kurt could manage. They fell into silence once more. A new song had started playing in the background.

_Before you met me, I was alright, but things  
>Were kinda heavy, you brought me to life<br>Now every February, you'll be my valentine, valentine..._

Blaine blinked. Fingers tightened their hold on Kurt's hair.

"Blaine?"

"Shhh.."

_Let's go all the way tonight  
>No regrets, just love<br>We can dance until we die  
>You and I will be young forever...<em>

"Oh my gosh, you remember the song?"

_Staircase. Running. Spiral staircase. _

_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream  
>The way you turn me on, I can't sleep<br>Let's runaway and don't ever look back  
>Don't ever look back<em>

_My heart stops when you look at me  
>Just one touch now baby I believe<br>This is real so take a chance and don't ever look back  
>Don't ever look back..<em>

_People. Someone. Spiral staircase.  
><em>

_I'm a get your heart racing  
>In my skin tight jeans<em>

_Be your teenage dream tonight  
>Let you put your hands on me<br>In my skin tight jeans  
>Be your teenage dream tonight<em>...

_Room. More people. Song. Staircase. Someone._

_Tonight, tonight, tonight..._

_Singing. Room. Boy. Boy – _

"Blaine.. Blaine!"

"The song – somebody was singing it.. in a room.. with loads of people." Blaine swallowed, lifeless hazel eyes widening and hands gesturing frantically. "There was a boy in there. And somewhere... there was a staircase. A large spiral staircase..."

Blaine had retracted his hands from Kurt's hair. He was back in his original sitting position, hugging his knees tightly against his chest. His eyes were wild with confusion and frustration.

"Blaine.."

"I swear I saw– I could see these random fragmented images in my mind, Kurt. But I couldn't fucking piece them together.. The boy.. I couldn't see his face at all. It was a boy, but I couldn't remember a fucking bit about him.. how he looked like, what he said to me – Fuck.. I can't remember – "

"Calm down, Blaine, please. You're already making good progress here – "

"Fuck. It was you, wasn't it? You were the boy, weren't you? But where was that place? And what about the staircase? And who were the other people? Why do I have all these little impressions of these fucking useless things but not a single thing that I can recall about you?"

"Blaine Anderson." Kurt said sternly as he gripped the man's hand. "Please, don't put so much pressure on yourself to recall everything. Yes, you were right I was the boy. It was the first time we met, in your school – Dalton Academy – on the steps of a spiral staircase. I was there to kind of spy on you guys. And you were the one who led me to the Warblers' choir room."

"And what about the song?"

"You were the one singing the song, Blaine. In front of all of the Warblers." Kurt blushed slightly as he added, "And you couldn't keep your eyes off me the whole time."

Blaine buried his head in his hands. "I don't remember that. At all. Nothing." He growled in frustration, and continued brokenly, "Why? How can I actually forget those things? How can I not remember you? What if I won't ever regain those memories? What if I'll be haunted all my life by those scattered images that refuse to make any fucking sense?"

"I'll tell you everything about your past. I promise, I'll do all I can to – " Kurt placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder but he shrugged it off.

"It's not enough, Kurt. It won't ever be. I want to be able to remember those things, I fucking _need_ to.. The only way that can possibly make me feel like a proper, functioning, worthy human being are my memories, don't you get it?"

"I know you're upset because of how things have turned out but allowing yourself to drown in all these negative thoughts will only make things worse. The Blaine I knew was one who would never back down from his problems –"

"Well, I'm sorry but in case you haven't noticed, I'm probably nothing at all like the Blaine you knew," The curly-haired man snapped, eyes narrowed. "The Blaine sitting right here beside you here doesn't have a fucking clue about you, doesn't know how to be nice and sweet, doesn't even know anything about himself. And fuck, he couldn't even get around on his own without tripping above something every five steps. He's a fucking bitchy emotional wreck who's forever upset and confused and pissed off and – "

"Stop it, Blaine Anderson. Stop this nonsense, right now."

Blaine tried to produce a menacing glare in the direction of Kurt's voice. "And who the hell are you to order me around?" The curly-haired man sneered, raising his chin defiantly. "The last time I checked, I don't seem to remember even having a boyfriend, much less an irritating, demanding one."

The sight of Blaine, face twisted in anger and misery, was too agonizing to bear. Kurt bit back a retort and lowered his eyes.

_I don't seem to remember even having a boyfriend. _

The reality of the spiteful words hit him like a gust of icy-cold wind. His heart sank.

"No need to be rude." Kurt spoke finally with forced composure.

Blaine was inhaling deeply now, his chest rising and falling quickly with each breath.

"Go. Leave me alone."

"Blaine.. listen.."

"Fuck off."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at the scowling man, biting down an urge to scream at him.

"Fine," he said evenly at last. He stood up abruptly and grabbed his car keys off the table. "I'll leave you alone, if that's what you want."

Blaine clenched his jaw and determinedly turned his face away from Kurt's direction.

"I've saved my number in your cellphone. It's on speed-dial, just press number one to call me if anything urgent crops up. See you later."

The door slammed shut. A long moment of silence. The sharp sound of a fist slamming against the door. The sound of boots clicking rapidly against the concrete surface.

More silence.

His own voice continued to play in the background. In the stillness of the apartment, the music seemed uncomfortably loud.

_All around me are familiar faces  
>Worn out places, worn out faces<br>Bright and early for the daily races  
>Going nowhere, going nowhere...<em>

He reached his hands forward and searched for the remote control which he had heard Kurt place on the coffee table. Just as he clenched his fingers around it, his elbow knocked against a hard object.

_Their tears are filling up their glasses  
>No expression, no expression<br>Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow  
>No tomorrow, no tomorrow...<em>

A glass of water was swept carelessly off the table, crashing to the ground with a shrill shatter and sending a splash of icy-cold water against his feet. Strange, how it felt exactly as if someone had delivered a cold, stinging slap to his face.  
><em><br>_

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad  
>The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had<br>I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take  
>When people run in circles its a very, very<br>Mad world, mad world..._

Helpless, ashamed and angry at himself, he buried his face into his hands, letting the tears flow for a long time.

The scent of lavender was gone. He wished it would come back soon.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Up next (tentative)...<strong>_

_**_**Within a shared physical space, the two familiar strangers take a step closer to understanding each other and negotiating the confusing nature of their relationship. **_Blaine regains his sight but continues to struggle with his fuzzy, nearly non-existent memories. Kurt tries all he can to help, showing him bits and pieces of his missing past while patiently dealing with the mood swings and unexpected emotional outbursts. **_

_**Meanwhile, with the help of someone, Blaine makes a decision to take matters into his own hands, unfolding a string of crazy adventures and unthinkable consequences...**_

* * *

><p><strong>Commentsreviews/suggestions are very much loved, as always!:)**


	17. Chapter 17: Brat

Hello guys, sorry for the long wait! Hope this makes up for it:) Thanks for reading!

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 17: Brat<span>**

"_Darwin."_

"_Evolution."_

"_Orthogenesis."_

"_Survival."_

"_Fittest."_

"_Natural Selection."_

_The man groaned as soon as the words were out of his mouth. As much as he hated to admit it, he decided he was really horrible at this game. _

"_Natural selection." A barely muffled snort sounded behind him. "That's two words, love. I'm afraid you've broken the rule again."_

_He sighed. The warm body that was pressed against his back was shaking with laughter; he could practically feel the oh-so-smug grin spreading against his neck. The next thing he knew, an impatient hand had slid down his torso and landed just above the waistband of his boxers. Rolling his eyes, he tried to squirm away but those arms had immediately wrapped themselves tighter around his waist. _

"_Hmmm can't I keep it? It''s kinda cold you know. Plus it's no fun when I'm always losing." He almost cringed at the sound of his voice; it sounded way too whiny. But hell, he couldn't afford to lose this time. He had to work harder to get out of this. _

_Shaking his head, his lover laughed and stretched over the edge of the bed to retrieve the duvet from the floor. He wrapped the duvet snugly over both of them and kissed him tenderly on the back of his neck. _

"_On the contrary, I believe that you losing all the time makes it all the more interesting – "_

"_But you have an unfair advantage. You have so many layers!" The man whined, shifting his body and turning around to face his boyfriend who was still fully dressed – far too fully dressed for his liking. He, on the other hand, was – unfortunately, or fortunately – much less adequately clothed._

"_Aww, aren't you an adorable sore loser." _

"_Am not." _

"_You know the rules, love. Now, don't try to squirm your way out with those darling puppy eyes of yours. Not gonna work this time." _

_The man pouted as he snuggled against his grinning boyfriend. "At this rate we are going, I swear you'll still be fully dressed by the time Finn and Rach arrive for dinner," he grumbled, idly fingering the buttons on his boyfriend's shirt. He slid his hand beneath the shirt collar, exposing the line of fading red marks on the slender neck. "Don't you think you should - "_

_Chuckling, his boyfriend swatted his hands away. "A fine attempt but I'm afraid that's not gonna change my mind, love." _

"_Oh **really**, what about – " He flashed a playful smirk as he traced the love bites with slow teasing strokes of his tongue. __It elicited a gasp of surprise, followed by a soft moan. _

_And then a sharp poke in his ribs._

"_As much as I love that to bits, no, I'm not giving in." His boyfriend stated simply. He leaned in to nibble his earlobe, dropping his voice to a dangerously low whisper that sent a familiar thrill through his body. _

"_Off. Now." _

_The man gave an exaggerated sigh of defeat. He should have known better than to argue with his boyfriend; he was extremely insistent in bed._

"_Yes, Hummel."_

_With one swift movement, he tugged off his boxers._

* * *

><p><em><strong>23nd August 2022.<strong>_

Blaine awoke with a start. He blinked. It was another of those strange dreams again, only this time it was coherent and complete, unlike his previous ones. He took a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table. 6:40 AM. Kurt's probably still asleep; he would have to wait till breakfast then. For the first time, he felt a surge of hope. The day was looking good already.

* * *

><p><em><strong>23th August 2022, 10:05 PM.<strong>_

_Dear Diary,_

_It has been nearly a month of living with post-coma Blaine. And four days since he has regained his sight. That has somewhat lifted his spirits but he's still cranky most of the time. I know he's upset and frustrated for not being able to remember much about the past. I've shown him the diary, brought him to places and shown him photos and videos but it doesn't seem to be working much. _

_Oh but then again, Blaine did ask a couple of interesting questions this morning. He really does remember the weirdest things._

_But don't get me wrong, I'm definitely not complaining:)_

* * *

><p><em><strong>24th August 2022, 10:30 pm.<strong>_

"Stop being a child won't you!"

"Am not."

"Right, of course you're not. You're a hot-tempered, illogical, quarrelsome brat."

"Takes one to know one."

Kurt sighed and stared up at the ceiling, counting silently in his head. After ten seconds, he finally felt fairly confident enough to complete a full sentence without having the urge to hurl a string of expletives. He took a deep breath and counted slowly to three before trusting himself to speak, just to be safe.

"Hell, Blaine, don't you ever get sick of all this crap? Can't we get through a full twenty-four hours without fighting with each other? Can't you at least try-"

"Can't. Why should I?" Blaine snapped, raising his chin defiantly. "This is who I am, and I'm proud of it. Take it or leave it!"

Kurt was thankful, in that very moment, that he was strongly against violence of any kind. Otherwise, he was certain he would have strangled Blaine there and then.

"Fine. I can't be bothered to argue with you when you're in one of these I-don't-care-what-I-say-I-just-need-to-lash-out-at-someone states."

"What, gonna leave again aren't you?" Blaine sneered. "Another of those sad, lonely nights at the bar down the street, I believe."

Kurt shot him an irate glare as he grabbed his wallet off the table and strode towards the door. "Yes, to bar. But no to lonely nights." He smirked, unable to resist adding, "For your information, I've got a _date._"

Shaking his head, Blaine snorted. "Yeah, with your right hand I suppose." The corners of his lips twitched up into an amused smile as he raised a mischievous eyebrow.

"Left." Kurt deadpanned. "Can't let things get too boring, eh?"

"Fine. Have fun then." Blaine replied coolly, despite the fact that he was already half-smirking, half-laughing by now. Kurt rolled his eyes with a barely suppressed smile.

"But don't you dare get nearly half as intoxicated as you did last week." Blaine warned. "We certainly do not need more puke stains on that couch, you know. Do you need me to remind you how you –"

"I did _not _throw up all over the couch. I'm quite sure I made it to the bathroom in time." Kurt cut him off abruptly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Pointedly dismissing Kurt's feeble attempt at defending himself, Blaine continued, "I'm not gonna be kind to you this time, Hummel, given how much you have pissed me off. I swear I will _not_ lift a finger to drag you into the house and shall conveniently leave you rotting in your own puke." He added with a malicious grin, "Oh, and of course, take lots of embarrassing photos which could potentially serve as superb blackmail material."

"Dream on, Anderson. I will _not_ need your help in getting into the house, and I will _not _wake up the next morning in a pool of my own vomit, and there will _not _be the tiniest chance for a sneaky opportunist like you to get your hands on any incriminating photos."

"Kay, whatever. We'll see in the morning then." Blaine said, yawning as he made his way back towards the stairs. Arguing with Kurt was fun but very mentally draining, he realized.

"Right. Goodnight, sleep tight and don't stay up all night waiting for me, darling." Kurt called out teasingly outside the door.

Blaine snorted. Without turning around, he gave him the finger over his shoulder.

* * *

><p><em><strong>25th August, 2022, 7:45 AM.<strong>_

"Wow wow, look who's up bright and early."

Kurt winced, closing his eyes in hope to shut off the dull pain in his head which was unfortunately intensified by the too-loud voice behind him. He was certain that Blaine was doing it on purpose; his morning greetings were never this chirpy.

"Morning," he mumbled noncommittally as he tossed the cushions aside. _Damn, where the hell is that darned folder. It was on the couch last night I swear. _

"Checking for puke stains on the couch?" Blaine smirked behind him, leaning lazily against the cabinet.

"Not now, Blaine. I really do not have the mental strength and saint-like temper to handle an early-morning squabble," he muttered. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his head, he bent down on his knees to look under the couch._ Fuck, not there either._

"You leaving for work this early?"

"Mmm..." Kurt replied distractedly as he paced around the apartment frantically. He had a court hearing in less than an hour's time and he would be terribly screwed if that folder failed to materialize in the next couple of minutes. He groaned, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Randall would definitely throw an enormous fit and that would be the end of his career, period.

"Damn, I was just hoping to coerce you, through blackmail of course, to whip up those amazing waffles for breakfast and – hey, are you looking for something?"

"Yeah, did you happen to see a navy blue folder lying around?" Kurt asked, panic-stricken as he flung drawers open and desperately plowed through the contents. "I believe it was on the couch, well at least that's what I thought, before I- er.. had too much to drink." _Damn, should have known better than to get drunk on a weekday night. _

"Oh _that._" Blaine said causally. He took a good look at the man who was staring back at him quizzingly, and couldn't help but smile at the sight of the uncharacteristically tousled hair and rumpled clothes. "Well, you conked out on the couch last night and I was afraid you might puke all over the folder. It looked kind of important so I kept it away. It's in my room. Bedside table."

"Oh _thank god_."

"It's Blaine, really." He smirked. And was instantly punished with a sharp smack on his head.

"Whatever. But yeah thanks anyway, _Blaine_." Kurt called out over his shoulder as he sprinted up the stairs.

"You're welcome. But I do expect a reward. Waffles for breakfast tomorrow would be nice."

Two minutes later, Kurt had emerged back in the living room, stuffing a folder into his briefcase and looking very much relieved.

"Got to rush now. See ya tonight. Let me know if you – "

"Goodbye kiss?" Blaine interrupted. He laughed as Kurt froze mid-sentence, eyes widened comically. Without waiting for Kurt to recover from his shock, he stood on tiptoes and planted a quick peck on his lips.

Smiling sweetly, he adjusted Kurt's tie and straightened his shirt.

"Now off you go. Will you be back for dinner later?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>26th August 2022, 9:30 PM.<strong>_

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm still surviving. Kudos to me huh._

_I've read all the entries here. Thrice at least. It's like reading someone's life story, seriously. I don't fucking remember anything. _

_Oh well but looking on the bright side of things, I should count my blessings I guess (god, can't believe I'm saying this; must be brainwashed Kurt's daily pep talks). At least my eyesight is back now. It makes things a hell lot easier._

_To be honest, I'm glad Kurt's here, though he does seriously get on my nerves at times. But he's great, really. He tolerates all my bullshit and somehow manages to keep his cool every time we fight. He's been more than patient with me all this while. I guess I really ought to learn to control my temper else he might just decide to leave me one day. _

_He's out of the house all the time these days. His job seems to keep him tragically busy (no wonder lawyers earn so much). But he usually joins me for dinner. I cooked dinner yesterday and today, and I'm mighty proud of myself (and very very glad) that he likes it. I think I shall cook more often in future. Reason 1: I like home-cooked food. Reason 2: I feel bad living off him. Reason 3: I have nothing to do at home anyway (still job-hunting). Reason 4: It seems that I have awesome talent in cooking and he loves the food. _

_I like having dinner with him. I'm not clingy or anything but I have to admit, I like having him around._

_(Okay, fine, I like him.)_

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><p><em><strong>27th August, 2022, 9:10 PM.<strong>_

_TGIF! _

_Blaine cooked dinner today, again. I'm not entirely sure what happened to his culinary skills, and well, truth be told, the food was.. fine. Alright maybe it was less than fine but of course I'm not gonna say so. I told him his cooking was brilliant and managed, somehow, to clear all the food on the table. A harmless white lie wouldn't hurt, right? On the bright side, we don't quarrel that badly ever since he thought I "loved" his cooking. Awesome. _

_Oh yes, Blaine mentioned about going to the bar two days ago. We'll be going there tomorrow night. Can't wait:)_

_Nothing's new. We are still quarreling all day. Sometimes all night too. Frankly, I do get a little tired at times. Tired of dealing with the unpredictable mood swings and sudden outbursts. Tired of all the mindless pointless quarrels. Tired of leaving the house and finding myself at the bar every time things get too much to handle. _

_But more than anything, I think I'm afraid. I can't imagine losing him. I don't think I can go through all that trauma again._

_I will do anything and everything to make him stay. _

_Movie night with Blaine in 20 minutes' time. This time I'll let him decide on the movie, so hopefully (fingers crossed) we don't end up in a heated argument again._

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><p><em><strong>28h August, 2022.<strong>_

"I'm only saying this because I know – " Blaine hiccuped. " – none of us would remember a thing in the morning." He paused, grinned, and leaned forward to ruffle Kurt's hair. "You are kind of cute."

"So I'm told." Kurt smirked, taking a long swig from the wine bottle.

"But I think you'll look way better if you're less – " Blaine frowned, gesturing as he struggled to find the exact word. "Frown-y." He hiccuped again.

"You're a fine one to talk, sulky-face. Anyway, you – " Kurt swayed forward and jabbed Blaine in the chest, " – are the main cause of my frowny-ness."

"That's a disgusting nickname. I ain't sulkyyyyy," Blaine slurred, snatching the bottle from Kurt.

"Hey, you've had enough to drink. Give it back."

"Ne-ver." He grinned as he took a quick gulp, effectively emptying the bottle of its contents.

Kurt scowled. "You.. brat."

"Idiot."

"Bitch."

"Nincompoop."

Kurt shot him a glare, attempting - unsuccessfully - to extract the last few drops of wine from he bottle. "Thanks to your alcohol-hogging behavior, I will need to spend hard-earned money on more alcohol. Brat."

"Blame it on your voracious appetite for wine." Blaine grinned smugly to himself. "Vo-rac-ious. Wow that's a big word. Seems like I ain't that drunk after all, huh?"

"Yeah right. You and your delusions," Kurt replied, rolling his eyes. He got on to his feet unsteadily and staggered towards the direction of the bar counter.

Leaning on his elbows, Blaine watched him as he weaved into the crowd. "That arrogant, annoying, adorable man," he muttered to no one in particular, smiling to himself. His smile broadened when Kurt suddenly turned around to face him. When Kurt grinned back and winked playfully in his direction, his heart fluttered and he actually felt as if he might melt there and then.

_Shit, I must really have been drinking too much. _

Ten minutes later, Kurt was back at their table. And five minutes before that, Blaine had stopped smiling altogether.

"Hello again, sulky-face."

"What the fuck were you doing?" Blaine bellowed, ignoring the many pairs of eyes that have turned towards them. He was too drunk to care anyway; those nosy-parkers were free to enjoy the show if they wished.

"What?" Kurt responded absently as he struggled to clamber onto the bar stool.

"You were flirting with the bartender." Blaine accused, glaring at him pointedly.

"No, you got it all wrong." Kurt slurred. "_He_, was flirting with _me_."

"It was your fault for leading him on!" He hissed, positively seething in rage now. "You could have done something – I don't know, ignore, walk away, slap, call for help or anything like that – when that old ugly tattooed toad-face tried to grope you – "

"What? I swear he did not – "

"Oh yes I saw what he did. Don't you dare try to deny it." Blaine snapped. He immediately regretted his words, realizing belatedly that he had sounded no less than a jealous, spiteful girlfriend.

"He did not _grope_ me, silly. We had a nice chat that's all. And fine, he merely touched the back of my hand._ Once_." Kurt rolled his eyes again, sighing in exasperation. "Seriously, you are such a drama queen."

"At least it's better than being a slutty bitch." Blaine spat. Silence fell between them, save for a couple of shocked gasps from curious onlookers who had derived much entertainment from their drunken squabble.

_Oh well, he deserves it. Hopefully that would teach him not to do it again._

"Not only have you lost your memories, I see that your manners have well disappeared too." Kurt retorted coolly, far too intoxicated to be angered.

"Fuck you."

"I wish."

"You can be so bloody infur – what!"

"What what." Kurt said tiredly. He was starting to feel the full-blown effects of the alcohol. Thank god it's the weekend; at least he could sleep in the next day.

"I said fu –well I said you-know-what-I-said, and you said – "

"Yeah yeah. You said 'fuck you' and I said 'I wish'. You heard right." Kurt sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. It was time to call it a night, he decided. He was about to suggest heading home when he felt a warm breath graze his ear. His eyes flew open.

"Hmm.." Blaine had leaned closer towards Kurt, a wicked grin playing on his lips. He clumsily reached out a hand to cup his cheek, gently grazing the skin with the pad of his thumb.

Kurt chuckled nervously and shoved him away before his brain managed to completely turn to mush. "No. I mean, no, urgh not as in I don't want to – hell yes, I do want to – but I mean, not when we're in this state," he rambled. "I don't do drunk sex," he added quickly and a little more convincingly than he had felt. He almost wanted to kick himself less than a second after the words were out of his mouth. Slamming his head onto the tabletop, he willed what was left of his cognitive resources to eradicate the string of unhelpful images that were rapidly infiltrating his mind.

Blaine stared at him for a long moment, sighed, and then leaned back in his seat.

"Damn."

Sulking, he snatched the bottle from Kurt once more.


	18. Chapter 18: The Morning After

Here's a short chapter before we move on to the exciting part;)

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><p><span>Chapter 18: The Morning After<span>

_**29th August, 1025AM.**_

"Cushion hog."

"Couch hog."

"Urgh. Stop poking me."

"You're taking up too much space, you irritating br – "

Groggily, Kurt paused mid-sentence. A full ten seconds had gone by before his brain, stirring from its alcohol-induced stupor, registered the fact that he was sprawled all over the couch with his legs dangling over the edge. It took another five seconds before it struck him that he had been exchanging words with someone. He could recognize that voice anywhere, whether awake, asleep or barely alive.

His eyes snapped open and he let out a strangled cry of surprise.

"Oh shut up." Someone mumbled irritatedly.

Kurt shut his eyes briefly before opening them again. The same sight greeted him. Heart pounding against his chest, he blinked, inhaled deeply and willed his overactive imagination to slow down. The direction of blood flow towards his brain, however limited, was quickly reversed and was now rapidly traveling down south.

_Don't be silly, Kurt Hummel. You're only dreaming. This isn't real. This is nothing but a nice, vivid, sexy dream. You're gonna wake up anytime soon..._

He was halfway convinced that he would soon be awakened by the shrill ringing of his alarm clock when he felt a hard pinch on his thigh. He yelped in pain.

"Oww. What the hell was that for!"

"Serves you right. Now please be quiet so we can both go back to sleep."

_Okay, definitely not a dream then. _

It was all real. He was indeed lying unglamorously on the couch with Blaine curled up in his arms, and it certainly wasn't a figment of his imagination that they were both nearly naked. Through a haze of sleepiness, he gaped at the incredible sight before him.

_Urgh. This is not right. Better get up before I do something that we might both regret._

He struggled to pull himself up into a sitting position but immediately felt his surroundings spin around him. With a groan, he gave up and fell back heavily against the cushions.

"Won't you stop fidgeting and just lie still for another minute?" Blaine grumbled sleepily, swinging a leg over his thigh. His arms wound tightly around Kurt's body as he nuzzled his chin in the curve of Kurt's neck.

Kurt stroked his hair instinctively and sighed in contentment. It felt as if he was transported back to those many years ago – to a time whereby there were no crazy drunken nights, no spiteful exchanges of words, no cranky Blaine. He could lay in this position forever, relishing the warm touch of Blaine's skin and drifting into sleep listening to each rise and fall of Blaine's steady breathing. Yet, his traitorous brain refused to allow that. Before he knew it, the words were out of his mouth.

"Blaine.. did we – you know, erm.. do anything last night?"

"Mmm?"

"Look, we are both.. stripped down to our boxers."

Blaine grunted in annoyance, opening his eyes reluctantly. Hazel eyes scanned the surroundings lazily before lingering on the almost naked man whose body was pressed against his. If he was surprised, he certainly did not show it.

"Don't tell me you don't remember," he said calmly.

"Wait, are- are you serious? You mean, we actually..." Kurt trailed off, eyes widened in disbelief.

The expression on Blaine's face was frighteningly solemn. His lips were pressed together in a thin line. He stared at Kurt wordlessly.

_Oh fuck fuck fuck._

"Blaine.." Kurt began weakly as he tightened his hold on Blaine's arm. "I- I have no idea what happened last night. Urgh damn, I'm so sorry.. I don't know what I– "

Blaine gave a loud sigh, turning his face away from Kurt.

_Oh shit, what exactly have I done._

Kurt smacked his own forehead, struggling to recall the events of last night. Fuzzy images slowly trickled into his consciousness. _Blaine yelling at him. Blaine snatching away the wine bottle. Walking home together and tripping over his feet. Linking arms with Blaine. Belting out Disney songs on the streets. Blaine doing a silly dance outside the door..._

He pressed his fingers to his temples but it did little to soothe the splitting headache. Pure panic gripped him as he realized that he had absolutely no recollection of what had transpired after they had entered the apartment. Just as he was about to apologize once again, he felt Blaine's body trembling against his chest.

_Crap, is he sobbing? Oh dear god please tell me this is not happening. _

And then before he could react, Blaine burst into hysterical laughter.

"Ohmygod, I can't believe you fell for it! You should have seen your face, Kurt – "

"What?" Kurt blinked as realization slowly hit him. "You- You were pulling my leg all this while?" He shot Blaine a venomous glare as he felt heat suffuse his face. "You evil, childish, insufferable brat!"

"Well, you should have known." Blaine responded, barely stifling a laugh. "I'm sure you'll have at least some vague memory of the event if we did end up doing anything interesting don't you think." Blaine managed a sleepy smirk. "Anyway, you don't see any sticky evidence lying around, do you?" He winked at Kurt mischievously.

Kurt groaned, blushing heavily. "Right. Gosh I should have known."

"Good. So now that you have cleared your burning doubt of the day, can we please go back to sleep? My head hurts so fucking much."

"Yeah of course it does. Told you to go easy on the alcohol. Anyway, serves you right. You deserve it completely for pulling that nasty prank, brat."

Blaine made a scoffing sound and poked him in the waist. "You talk too much, Hummel." He jabbed him again. In an act of retaliation, Kurt smacked his head with a plush cushion, before gripping his hands by the wrist to prevent further sneak attacks.

"Pot calling the kettle black. Anyway, you sure you're comfortable here? Don't you wanna go back to your room?"

"Too tired. Don't wanna move."

"Alright, then I guess I – ''

"Don't you dare move as well." Blaine draped an arm over Kurt's neck.

"I wasn't planning to. I knew it; you'll miss me."

"Nah. I'm only keeping you here cos you're warm."

"Same thing." Kurt grinned fondly at the man in his arms, hugging him closer. A slow smile spread over Blaine's face as he closed his eyes.

"Mmm. You're such a cuddle monster, Kurt Hummel."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, resisting an urge to point out the glaring fact that Blaine was in fact the bigger cuddler. His grin broadened as Blaine swung another leg over his calf. He decided to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to risk another silly argument. For now, it would be wise to thoroughly enjoy the quiet comfort of the moment. He couldn't care less if the couch was obviously too small for the both of them or if Blaine's elbow was poking him painfully in the ribs; neither was he bothered by the fact that he was lying in a most awkward position that would definitely bring about a serious backache and hellish cramps for the next couple of days. Resting his head over Blaine's shoulder, he sighed contentedly, wishing that time could stand still for them right now.

"But I don't mind, Hummel. I love cuddles."

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><p><strong><em>Like always, reviewscomments are very much appreciated!:)_**


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